"Thy shepherds slumber, O King of
Assyria: thy nobles shall dwell in the dust; thy people is scattered
upon the mountains, and no man gathereth them."
Nahum iii, 18.

Published A.D. 1850

Assyrian International News Agency
Books Online
www.aina.org

CONTENT

PREFACECHAPTER I
Departure. Paris. French Oriental works.
Mediterranean monks and Methodists. A nondescript. Sicily. A Maltese
ecclesiastic. Malta. Nix mangiare stairs.CHAPTER II
Malta and the Maltese. Valetta: St. John's houses.
Auberges. Capucin convent. Carneria. Fatal accident. Fortifications.
Calash. Casal Mosta. Civita Vecchia. St. Paul's Bay. Casal Crendi.
Macluba. Fungus rock.CHAPTER III
English and foreigners. Dissensions at Malta. The Bishop of
Gibraltar. Character of the Maltese. Language. University. The press of
Valetta. Religion. Anecdote of a preacher. The priesthood. The canon
and the beggar. The knights. Singular species of duel. The hospital.
The taking of St. Eluio.CHAPTER IV
The East. Fellow-passengers. Cape Matapan. Syra. Greek church.
Priesthood. Smyrna. The streets. Bazaars. Mosque. Holy shoes.
Misadventure. Departure front Smyrna. Constantinople.CHAPTER V
Departure from Constantinople. Samsoun. Mohammed Aga. St. Basil.
Ancient monasticism of Pontus. Cazal Kiouy. Nocturnal invaders. Ladik.
The Ramadan. Robbers. Oppression of the government. Amasia. Ina Bazaar.
Anecdote of a pasha. Turkel. Tokat. Colonization.CHAPTER VI
Tocat. Papal Armenians. Greek church. Nuns of St. Basil: Martyn's
grave. Sivas. Scriptural allusion. Legend of the Two Brothers. Mount.
sin scenery. Ulash. Hekim khan. Kabban Maaden. Mezraa. Entry of a
pasha. Province of Diarbekir and its boundaries.CHAPTER VII
Anti-Taurus. Argana Maaden. Armenian house. Black tents of Bektash
Aga. Arrival of Osman Pasha. Chimbel ham. Diarbekir. A disappointment.
Deacons of the Syrian church. SS. Cosmas and Damianus. Reputed
miraculous oil. Progress of the Roman see in the East. French policy.
Syrian church and pictures.CHAPTER VIII
Kurdish village and people. Turkish oppression. The skull. Syrian
bishop. The monastery of Zaphran. Library, and manuscripts. Armenian
banker. Nisibin and its traditions. Tomb of St. James. Jezirah.CHAPTER IX
Kurdistan. Derivation of the word Kurd. Resting-place of the ark.
Mosul. Houses. Climate-. Ana Gholamuk. Chaldean servant. The Yezidee.
Bagh Sheikha. Yezidee host. Syrian priest. An Oriental's account of
England and the English.CHAPTER X
Monastery of St. Matthew. Mohammedan veneration for Christian tombs.
Toma's story. An alarm. The gazelle. A night view of the plain of
Nineveh. Shereef Bey. Khoorsabad. A discovery.CHAPTER XI
The plain. Sheikh Adi. The Yezidees.CHAPTER XII
Early spread of Christianity in Assyria and Persia. The Magians.
Manes and his institutions. Manicheeism of the Yezidees. Rabban
Hormuzd.CHAPTER XIII
Rabban Hormuzd. Ecclesiastical customs of the Chaldeans. Language.
Extracts from the Liturgy of the Nestorians. Images. Excommunication.CHAPTER XIV
Elkosh. Tomb of Nahum. A Chaldean's account of the Reformation.
American traveler. Monastery of St. George. The locusts. An Oriental
view of antiquities.CHAPTER XV
Easter. A death and funeral. Kas Botros and Kas Michael. The
Christian fugitive. The merchant of Baghdad. Religious parties of
Mosul. A reformer. A baptized Mohammedan.CHAPTER XVI
Nestorian troubles and massacre. Flight of the patriarch. The
Italian juggler. Death of Mohammed Pasha. The impostor. Nebbi Sheeth.CHAPTER XVII
The Eastern Christians. Their opinions. Clergy. General character.CHAPTER XVIII
The Osmanli. Influence of Mohammedanism. Turkish civilization. Mate
of the law. Difference of the races inhabiting Turkey. General remarks.CHAPTER XIX
A Syrian Catholic Church. Journey to Arbela. Alexander and Darius.
Arbela. The Jew. The Christians of Shucklawa. Return to Mosul.CHAPTER XX
Journey to Nimroud. The sabre. The priest's tale.CHAPTER XXI
Tell-Nimroud. Monastery of Mar Bob nam. Khoorsabad.CHAPTER XXII
Remarks on Assyrian History.CHAPTER XXIII
Remarks on the Ecclesiastical History of the Chaldeans.CHAPTER XXIV
Remarks on the ecclesiastical history of the Chaldeans.CHAPTER XXV
Remarks on the ecclesiastical history of the Chaldeans.CHAPTER XXVI
The magician. The mollah. Kas Botros' tale. Bishop Matti. General
observations.CHAPTER XXVII
Remarks on the Syrian Jacobites.CHAPTER XXVIII
Departure from Mosul. Halt of a caravan. Giorgio. Sinjar, and its
ancient associations. Ruins of Dara. The Delli Ali. False alarm. Mode
of escaping from Arabs.CHAPTER XXIX
Diarbekir. Chaldean ladies. Mar Athanasius. Italian doctor. Remains.
Inscriptions. Holy fish.CHAPTER XXX
Urfah. Mochdesseh Yeshua. A Bedouin. Syrian observances. Church of
St. Thaddeus. Bir. Passage of the Euphrates. Aleppo. English merchants.
An Austrian consul.CHAPTER XXXI
Journey from Aleppo. Antioch. Latakia. Conclusion.FOOTNOTES

PREFACE

FROM the great interest excited respecting Nineveh,
I have been
induced to collect, and throw into a narrative, the notes of two years'
residence on its mighty plains, with accounts of excursions into the
remotest parts of Assyria. In order to complete the record of my
travels, I have added some chapters descriptive of the countries on the
route.

The hypothesis respecting the difference between the
Babel mentioned
in Genesis and that alluded to in the later inspired writers is, I
believe, entirely new; as are, also, most of the remarks on Assyrian
history. Those which relate to the true position of the Ararat of
Scripture, I found, after my return, had suggested themselves to
Bochart and others; but I am not aware that they have appeared before
in an English dress.

The history of the Nestorians and Jacobites, as well
as the account
of the massacre of the former by the ferocious and savage Kurds,
proceeds from my desire to excite, on behalf of the Christians of the
East, a spirit of kindly sympathy among their brethren in England.

The remarks on antiquities have been somewhat
abridged, in
consequence of the ground being in great measure preoccupied by Mr.
Layard.

Before I conclude, I must acknowledge my grateful
obligations to the
living and the dead. Among the latter, I would particularize especially
Herodotus and Joseph Simon Assemani. The former I have always found the
most veracious, as well as the most simple and unaffected of writers;
while the pages of the last-named contain an almost inexhaustible fund
of information respecting the churches of the East, and other matters
connected with Oriental history. Gibbon, who terms him "the learned and
modest slave," might have added with truth the title of impartial to
his other epithets.

Among the living, I must number Samuel Birch, Esq.,
from whose
valuable observations on the Karnak Tablet I have derived much useful
information. I am also indebted to Mr. James Darling, of the Clerical
Library, Lincoln's Inn Fields, for a copious supply of many rare and
high-priced works of reference.

CHAPTER I

IT was about the middle of February, 1842, when I
first received the
intimation that I had been appointed the lay associate of a clergyman,
who was about to proceed on a mission of inquiry into the present state
of religion and literature among the ancient Christian churches of the
East. Soon after, my colleague proceeded to Malta, where he had spent
the greater part of his early life, leaving me to follow him in the
month of May. At that time I left London, and proceeded in the first
place to Paris, where I hoped to have the opportunity of consulting two
or three works on Oriental matters, which could not so readily be
procured in London.

For some time, France has taken a lively interest in
the affairs of
Turkey and of the East generally. Most of the Arabic and Turkish
grammars and dictionaries are written in French, and we have in English
scarcely any elementary work relating to either of those languages. It
is true that we possess grammars of the written or classical Arabic,
but they are of little use to one who wishes merely to acquire the
vulgar dialects used in common conversation. Until very lately, too, no
English steamer was to be found in the Mediterranean, while the
innumerable French packets, going hither and thither, seemed to assert
the exclusive right of our Gallie neighbors to what they have been
pleased to term a French lake. In Constantinople, and other parts of
the Turkish empire, French is more frequently spoken than any other
European language, with the exception, perhaps, of Italian, which, from
its facility of acquirement, and its being the native tongue of the
Roman Catholic missionaries, greatly predominates in Syria and Egypt.
The French government, whether monarchical, imperial, or republican,
has always fostered and promoted the labors of those men of letters who
devote their time to philological pursuits. In England, works of this
kind are left, like all others, to the patronage of the public at
large, and as the number of those interested in such pursuits will
always be small, the linguist cares little to engage in labors which
are attended with no profit, and even in many cases with certain loss.
Men will always prefer amusement to instruction, or at least they will
require that the two be blended together; and thus, the novelist, the
historian, or even the writer of travels, may seek for his reward in
the favor and the support of an amused and gratified public, while the
scientific or philological writer will find that his researches must
be, like virtue, their own reward.

After a very pleasant journey through the south of
France, I arrived
safely at Marseilles, and beheld with varied emotions the vast expanse
of the blue Mediterranean extended before me. There, indeed, was that
historical sea on whose waves Roman and Carthaginian had contended for
the empire of the world. On its fertile shores had once existed the
mighty empires oÇ the past. Egypt, the foster-mother of arts and
learning; Greece, the parent of poets, philosophers, and heroes; Rome,
the impersonation of military power and dominion; Carthage, the busy
trader of the old world; and last, though not least, the Holy Land of
Palestine, rife with associations connected with the patriarchs and
prophets, the apostles and martyrs of our faith. But though ages of
warfare and desolation have written on those once mighty shores,
Ichabod, the glory has departed, yet the scenic beauty--a beauty
rendered, perhaps, more touching from its contrast with decay-has not
entirely abandoned them. The works of man's genius are ruined or gone,
but the creations of Deity shine as fresh and as fair as when they
first rose into existence at the fiat of the Omnipotent. No, the eye
may mark with sorrow the wrecks of man created beauty which lay
scattered around; but the dark blue sea has met with neither alteration
nor change, and the-bright sky of the south still retains its sunny
smile.

And now from the deck of a French steamer I take my
last adieu of
Europe, and then turn to contemplate my fellow-passengers. They are a
motley group. Long-bearded Frenchmen and Italians contrast strangely
with the smooth-faced, close-shaven Englishman, while here and there a
red cap-and blue tassel proclaim its wearer a son of the
East. Figures, strange and novel to the eye of an untraveled Briton,
present themselves, enveloped in long brown frocks, girt shout the
waist with the friar's cord. They seem beings of another age, relics of
a system known only to us by the pages of history, and the lifelike
pictures of the Middle Ages, traced by the pencil of the great
Enchanter of the North. Yet-whatever he might have been in times past,
the monk of the nineteenth century has little of the poetic about him.
Take the first Methodist preacher you meet, invest him with a long
brown vest and a pair of sandals, and you have the facsimile of a
modern monk. And, perhaps, the comparison may go deeper yet. The same
religious enthusiasm, that enthusiasm which feels deeper longings and
more intense disgust for the world than animates the ordinary class of
religionists, has made alike the monk and the Methodist. But the
Church: of Rome has cherished and recognized the wild thoughts and
irregular acts of enthusiasm, while the Church of England has repelled
them from her with cold disdain; and the result has been, that the one
possesses a well-organized body of supporters, who have, in return for
the protection which they have received, consented to barter some of
the independence of enthusiasm for the almost military regularity and
obedience of a monastic rule, while the other has raised up enemies on
every side of her, who conspire her destruction, and menace her
stability continually. Whether the feeling that drove Wesley and
Whitfield from the service of the church into the ranks of dissent, was
a healthy and a proper one, I do not pause to inquire. The repentance
of the present generation for the mistakes of the past may be genuine
and satisfactory, but it can scarcely retrieve the mischief. If it
could, the numerous and zealous body of which Wesley was the founder
might yet become the bulwark of the Church of England.

We had on board an individual who excited much
curiosity, and
greater disgust. He was a short, olive-complexioned personage, with a
pair of cunning and malicious eyes twinkling intensely with the love of
mischief. No one could discover what part of the earth had the honor of
giving hind birth. The most searching inquiries failed of obtaining
satisfaction, and even the curiosity of a guessing American, who set to
the task with all the patient pertinacity of his countrymen, was doomed
to desist unsatisfied. This mysterious individual had been, according
to his own account, in every region of the habitable world. He spoke
with equal volubility of the cities of Europe, and the wilds of Africa.
He had been in London and at Pekin. He descanted on the mode of
traveling in Turkey, and preferred it to the railroads of America.
Tripoli and Timbuctoo seemed familiar words. Some doubts existed as to
his religion. One or two judged him to' be a Mohammedan; others said he
was a Greek, an Armenian, or a Jew; while a few who had been
occasionally wearied by his questions, or teased by his sarcasms,
affirmed that such conduct could proceed from no one but a downright
pagan. However, the object of our inquiries deigned, in this latter
particular, to satisfy in some measure our curiosity. He had annoyed a
worthy priest very much, one day, at the dinner table, by some
impertinence and attempted to appease the padre's displeasure by
professing his respect for the sacerdotal order, adding, " for you must
know, my father, that I am a good Catholic." The padre looked dubious,
but said nothing, though I have no doubt that he thought such an unruly
member better out of the church than in it.

But we are passing along the Calabrian coast, having
obtained a good
external view of Naples and its celebrated volcano, while lying at
anchor for a few hours in the bay. We sail by the Lipari, which
resemble, somewhat, the tall chimneys of a manufacturing town, and,
like them, smoke continually. Messina and Rhegium come on each side of
us, and we move peacefully by the once terrible localities of Scylla
and Charybdis. We did not fall upon or into either, notwithstanding the
well-known line; and, indeed, the rock and the whirlpool, so dreaded of
yore, seem to excite little terror in the breasts of modern sailors.
Hardly, however, hadwe passed through the straits of Messina,
when we were visited by a strong breeze, which set all around us in
commotion. A veil of mist hid Sicily from our eyes, and the vessel
began pitching and rolling to an extent which obliged nearly all the
passengers to retire below. An unfortunate wight, who bad succeeded
with great difficulty in lighting his pipe, by the aid of a short rope,
which was suspended from one of the masts, was seen staggering from one
side to the other, the sparks flying about in all directions, much to
the indignation of an Italian sailor, who imprecated on his unlucky
head all the bad wishes with which the Ausonian vocabulary is so
replete. I essayed to descend to the cabin but the moans, and the odor
which arose from thence, were too strong for my sympathies, and
olfactory nerves; so, wrapping my cloak around me, I passed the night
on deck, and awoke the next morning from uneasy slumbers, just in time
to see the first dim outline of Malta emerging from the horizon.
Matters being upon the whole in a more placid state than on the
preceding day, some of the sea-sick crept up the stairs, and were much
comforted by the news that we were approaching land.

A Maltese ecclesiastic, who had accompanied as from
Naples, saluted
me in Italian; but, being ignorant of, that language, I endeavored to
call up my school recollections of Cicero and Virgil, and addressed him
in Latin, He answered me with great volubility, having been accustomed
to speak it in the college at Rome where he was educated. I felt
disposed to envy his fluency, as I perceived myself getting confused
with concords and cases, and had besides an awkward consciousness that
my sentences were not very Ciceronian. My friend was completely Laudator
temporis acti, and did not seem to relish the rule of England. He
dwelt complacently on the virtues of the Order of St. John, and hinted
a wish to see their dynasty restored. He complained that the English
had no religion, and, in the same breath, lamented their proselyting
propensities. I pointed out to the worthy padre the slight
inconsistency of these two statements; but he maintained his ground in
more voluble Latin than I could command, and certainly he managed to
have the last word. Like many of his countrymen, he could not admit
that any one rejecting the authority of the Pope was a Christian, and
he asked me triumphantly, whether a station could have much sense of
piety, that, with such wealth and influence at its command, was content
to provide only a miserable room, that had formerly been the kitchen or
wine cellar of the Grand Master, for the service of the English Church.1 Our discourse was
drawn to a
close by the entry of our vessel into the bay, and as all were eager to
descend into the boats, it was impossible to debate the question any
farther.

Landing on the quay, we found ourselves surrounded
by a mob of
dark-featured islanders, clamoring and shouting, and proclaiming each
his own particular virtues in bad Italian, and worse English. After
having been tossed and pulled for some moments hither and thither, I
succeeded in securing the aid of a guide, with whom I prepared to
ascend the celebrated stairs known by the euphonious title of nix
mangiare. Valetta is built on the top of a rocky promontory or
headland, which, jutting out into the sea, divides the two principal
harbors from each other. The ingenuity of some knightly engineer
contrived to form on each side of this promontory ascents of steps, so
that all the lanes leading to the principal thoroughfare are literally
streets of stairs. On those which I was ascending, a troop of ragged
urchins had taken up their post, and began to solicit my charity, with
loud cries of nix mangiare, nix mangiare, which they presently
translated for my benefit into "not got nothing to eat, not got nothing
to eat." A small donation satisfied, or at least quieted, my youthful
escort, and a few minutes afterwards, I found myself safely lodged in
the temporary dwelling-place of my friend, who welcomed me to Malta
with his, usual kindness and hospitality.

EXPERIENCE confirms me more and more in the opinion
that the English
public commonly know far less of their colonies than they do of other
countries. China is distant enough, and yet we have had more written on
the manners and customs of the people of Canton or Pekin, than we have
on the character, language, and antiquities of the most interesting of
our Mediterranean colonies.

Since the overland route to India has been
established, numbers of
travelers visit Malta every month, and the salubrity of its climate has
led many medical men to recommend it as a sanatorium for a certain
species of complaints. Yet, comparatively few that visit the island
feel sufficient interest in its people or its antiquities to deem
either worthy of much attention.

The diary of the traveler generally presents a very
imperfect view
of the interiors of one or two churches; informs us that the Maltese
are very brown, barbarous, and superstitious; and then proceeds to
describe the festivities of some mess-table, or exclusive English soiree.

A young Anglo-Maltese was astonished, during a short
visit which he
paid to England, to find his friends and relatives perfectly
incredulous when he informed them that there were shops in Valetta, and
that his coat and pantaloons were actually manufactured by a Maltese
tailor. And yet Malta presents no inconsiderable claims to the notice
of the studious traveler. It was for some time the residence of St.
Paul, it received the last remnant of Christian chivalry, when, driven
from Rhodes, they made this rocky isle "Europe's best bulwark 'gainst
the Ottomite." It abounds with associations of a poetical and romantic
nature. One at least of the islands, Gozo, is said to have been the
enchanted home of Calypso; and Malta itself was colonized, and
inhabited by the Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Greeks, Romans, and
Saracens, previous to its occupation by the Knights of St. John. Its
language excited the interest, and occupied the attention of one of the
first linguists in Europe, the late Cardinal Mezzofanti. Its
antiquities, though not numerous, are by no means to be despised, and
the habits, manners, and even superstitions of its semi-oriental
population merit some attention, and more inquiry than the generality
of travelers care to bestow. The absurd and silly prejudices of a few
English merchants and some self-satisfied military residents have
indeed created a gulf between the two races, who, separated by mutual
antipathies, care not to mix together in society, and perhaps the
chilling repulsiveness of our northern manners accords ill with the
warm and excitable temperament of the south; yet, if the traveler can
get beyond the exclusive circle which his English friends will fain
draw around him, he will see and hear much to stir up his curiosity,
and to repay with interest his inquiries. The Maltese are a lively,
intelligent, quick witted, and ingenious race, though, like their
Italian neighbors, they are somewhat too fond of dolce far niente, and
like all southerns prone to push religion to the extreme of
superstition. Their ballads betray much genuine feeling, and abound in
allusions which show clearly their Eastern origin; while the
magnificent churches to be found even in the poorest villages reflect
credit on their taste and religious principle. After their knightly
masters had deserted their post, the Maltese bravely defended their
rights and liberties against the French invaders, and had nearly forced
the garrison in Valetta to capitulate, when the English came to their
assistance. Yet the Maltese have been reproached with moral degradation
and cowardice by men who never knew or cared to know a single native of
the island.

The Strada Reale is the grand thoroughfare of
Valetta, and towards
it we direct our steps. Ascending a lane of stairs, we come to a more
natural ascent leading into the square which fronts the old palace of
the Grand Master, now occupied by the English governor. This edifice is
built in the Italian style, and contains the armory of the knights. You
enter the armory, and behold two lines of figures in armor, bearing the
red-cross of Malta on their shields. Devices composed of warlike
implements decorate the walls. Here is the suit of De Wignacourt,
inlaid with gold; the sword of the famous corsair, Dragut; and a
curious cannon, composed of a thin tube of iron, bound round with
ropes, and covered with a coat of plaster painted black. Everything
looks warlike and ferocious, and you may almost fancy yourself
transported to the age of the Crusades. Descending from the armory, we
pursue our way to the Collegiate Church of St. John, where the knights
were wont to assemble on Sundays, and high festivals. It contains the
chapels of the different nations, or languages as they were called, and
the tombs of several of the grand masters. The rich variegated pavement
of Mosaic marble is formed of tombstones, on each of which the armorial
bearings of the deceased are emblazoned. The painted roof is divided
into compartments, in which are represented scenes from the history of
the order. Behind the high altar is a well-executed group in white
marble, representing the baptism of our Saviour. To the right is the
chapel of the Holy Sacrament, at the entrance of which are suspended
the keys of Acre, Jerusalem, and Rhodes. A superb railing of silver
excites your attention, and you are told how it was saved from French
rapacity by the ready wit of one of the canons, who covered the
precious metal with a thick coat of green paint. You descend to the
crypt, and muse over the monuments of departed chivalry, and perhaps
wax indignant against the plain, matter-of-fact spirit of the
nineteenth century. Yet the men over whose remains you grow sentimental
numbered among them the selfish and intriguing, the gross and
earthly-minded. Times are changed, but our race changes not,
notwithstanding the old assertion--

"Tempora mutantur et nos mutamur in
illis."

What man is in the nineteenth century he was in the
fifteenth.

The houses of Valetta are built in the Italian
style, and have
mostly a balcony attached to the first story. In the evening, the
people generally ascend to the flat terraced roofs, to enjoy the sea
breeze, which meets with double welcome after the sultry and oppressive
heats of the days. Malta is frequently visited by the sirocco, a hot
burning wind, which completely enervates for the time the whole frame,
and renders it incapable of exertion. From mid-day till three in the
afternoon the Maltese close their shops, and enjoy the Italian luxury
of a siesta.

The Auberges, formerly the residences of the
knights, are still
known by the names of the different nations which composed the order.
They are buildings of some elegance, but not deserving of any especial
notice. Valetta contains many monasteries and nunneries, and the
inmates of the former, in their sombre dresses and cowls, may be often
met in the streets and in the Botanic Garden, situated without the
gates, in the suburb called Floriana.

A small distance from the Botanic Garden is a
monastery of Capucins,
famous for its Carneria or subterranean chapel, the ornaments of which
are composed of the relics of mortality, bones and skulls. When a monk
dies, his. body is eviscerated, dried on the terraced roof, and then,
clothed in the monastic habit, it is placed in a niche in the Carneria.
Several of these spectre-like corpses are to be seen, slowly mouldering
away before the eyes of the beholder. One of them holds a scroll
containing a mournful, but neglected truth, " What thou art, I was;
what I am, thou shalt be." It has a strange and mournful interest, that
old monastery with its long passages and narrow cells. A ghost-like air
pervades the corridors, and makes you feel as though a spectre were
airing himself behind you. I am not very nervous, but I detected in my
mind a lurking desire to look over my shoulder as the 'monk who
accompanied me related the following tale: One evening, he and several
of the inmates; had been conversing about the Carneria and its cold and
silent dwellers. One after another had told of fearful appearances and
strange sounds, disturbing at midnight the quiet of the monastery. In
the midst of these legends, a strange desire seized one of the party.
He expressed a wish to descend alone with a light into the abode of the
dead. The others attempted to dissuade him, but in vain. With an air of
bravado, and a smile of contempt for what he termed, the superstition
of his companions, he burst from them, and they continued, in awe and
silence, listening to his retreating footsteps. The door of the
Carneria was heard to open, and, for a few moments, no sound was heard
as the listeners gazed fearfully at each other. Suddenly, a piercing
shriek rang through the passages of the monastery, and hardly had the
echoes ceased, when it was followed by a succession of cries for help.
Lights were procured, and the whole convent, with the superior at the
head, rushed down to the subterranean chapel. On the steps lay the
unfortunate victim of his own temerity, gasping in the agonies of
death. A nail in the stairs had caught the hem of his long robe, while
ascending to' rejoin his companions; and his excited and superstitious
fancy had led him to imagine himself in the grasp of the dead. He was
carried to his cell, and died the next day. His withered form, clad in
monkish attire, now fills one of the niches of the Carneria.

One striking feature about Valetta is the abundance,
I may almost
say the exuberance, of its fortifications. As you pass out of the
gates, you find yourself encompassed by drawbridges, moats, and other
strange-sounding contrivances of defence. The later grand-masters seem
to have contended with each other who could build the most, and when
all this fortifying had reached the acme of perfection, the town was
quietly taken without a blow having been struck in its defence. No
shame, however, to the engineers, for Bonaparte candidly acknowledged,
after he had gained admission into Valetta, "that it was well for him
some one from within had opened the door." How intensely he must have
despised the degenerate descendants of the men who fought so bravely at
Acre and Rhodes, when he beheld them submitting, one by one, to the
degradation of tearing the cross from their breasts, as they passed
through the gates which a handful of men might have defended against a
host. And now I must ask the reader to mount a calesh and take a drive
with me into the country. A calesh is a most original vehicle of its
kind; it has two shafts of a singular and primitive construction,
protruding from beneath a hotly resembling somewhat in shape that of a
post chaise. As it jolts along the stony roads of the country, you wish
in vain; that you had trusted to the sagacity of a hired saddle-horse,
to find his way over the island, and not have shut yourself up in a box
on wheels. The driver runs by the side of the horse, and when weary
seats himself on the shafts.

We come now to Casal Mosta, a miserable collection
of small houses
built in the Oriental style, and displaying, in their plain,
unornamented exteriors' and latticed windows, a striking contrast to
the gay colors and Italian arrangements of the town habitations. You
hear no more the soft, liquid sounds of the sweetest of languages, but
in its stead the rough, guttural Maltese, which resembles greatly the
Arabic, and is to be considered, if Maltese philologists speak the
truth, as the modern form of the ancient Punic or Phoenician In some
parts of the neighboring island of Gozo, the country people speak a
dialect termed "Braik," which is said to be a distinct language from
the ordinary Maltese.

The Church of Casal Mosta will, when completed, be
one of the finest
in Europe. The story of its erection is sole what singular. A young
priest, a native of the village of Mosta, happened to say his first
mass in the Pantheon at Rome. Struck with its peculiar beauty, be made
a vow that he would erect a similar structure in his native village.
Years rolled on, and the priest became a comparatively wealthy,
and prosperous man. He practiced the most rigid economy, and, before he
died, succeeded in collecting a large sum, which he bequeathed to
trustees for the purpose of erecting the church. Various additions were
made to the original fund, and at last, after many delays, the
execution of the plan was confided to Mr. Grognet, a Maltese architect
of great skill. Mr. Grognet has nearly finished the church, although
the work has been much delayed for want of funds; when finished, it
will be one of the most beautiful temples in the world.

Civita Vecchia, or the old city, formerly the
capital of the island,
possesses a splendid cathedral, from the roof of which a most extensive
view may be obtained. The catacombs are inferior in size and interest
to those of Rome, but their extent is very great; our guides told us
that many persons had been lost in endeavoring to explore some of the
more intricate passages. On many of the tombs a cross is sculptured,
which seems to indicate the resting-place of a Christian. Perhaps the
early professors of our faith held their meetings here during seasons
of persecution.

A cave containing the statue of St. Paul is pointed
out as the abode
of the apostle during his residence at Malta. Publius, who is mentioned
in the Acts as the chief man of the island, is said to have been the
first bishop. Many of the Maltese peasantry can repeat the names of the
various chief pastors of the island, from Publius to the present
archbishop.

I visited St. Paul's Bay, and was much struck with
the,
strong resemblance which it bears to the place described as the scene
of his shipwreck in the Acts. Nothing, in fact, can be plainer than
that Malta was the Melita of the sacred historian, and yet men have
questioned even this. `Our age seems to find great satisfaction in
doubting. Perhaps it would be happier if it could believe a little
more.

The remains of Casal Crendi did not much interest
me. They consist
of the outline of a Phoenician or a Carthaginian temple, with several
chambers attached. The Punic race has done little for mankind. A nation
of traders, they seem to have selfishly confined themselves to their
own peculiar objects of traffic and gain. They have had their reward in
great national prosperity as long as they continued a nation, and in
oblivion ever since. They did not choose to remember the claims of
posterity, and posterity has revenged itself by forgetting them.

Not far from Crendi there is a kind of chasm, said
to have been
formed by the giving way of the roof of a large cavern beneath the
surface. It is called Macluba, a word signifying anything inverted, or,
to use a common phrase, turned inside out.

On the southern coast of Gozo is a rock which
derives its name from
the fungus that is found in great abundance on its summit. This rock is
almost perpendicular, and is separated from the mainland by a narrow
channel of about fifty feet in breadth. The mode of transit adopted is
curious, and seems rather precarious. Two stout ropes are extended
across the channel in parallel lines, thus connecting the rock to the
land. From these slackened ropes, a box of oblong form is suspended by
rings, and furnished with a rope attached to the outer end, by which it
may be drawn across. A Maltese then gets inside the box, and conveys
himself to the rock, where he fastens the end of what I may call the
tow line. The box is then sent back to receive the enterprising
traveler, who, after submitting meekly to be packed up and disposed of
within the smallest possible compass, finds himself gliding swiftly
down the slackened ropes till he arrives midway. The man on the rock
then pulls him up the ascending ropes and assists him out of his box,
which is somewhat needful after the cramping process before alluded to.
The traveler then receives a fungus or two as trophies of his valorous
achievement, and not unfrequently finds himself mulcted of a sixpence
or more before his guides will allow him to re-enter his box. He then
returns to the mainland the same way in which he came, and doubtless
congratulates himself that he has escaped with an unbroken neck, though
the danger is more in appearance than otherwise.

There are many other of the curiosities of Malta
which might,
perhaps, deservedly require some notice at my hands. But I feel that
the indulgence of my natural inclination to linger a little longer amid
scenes where I passed the brightest and happiest hours of my life would
lay me open to the just complaint that I was keeping back-the reader
from more important and interesting matter.

CHAPTER III

English and foreigners. Dissensions at
Malta. The Bishop of
Gibraltar. Character of the Maltese. Language. University. The press of
Valetta. Religion. Anecdote of a preacher. The priesthood. The canon
and the beggar. The knights. Singular species of duel. The hospital.
The taking of St. Eluio.

IT is a general complaint among traveling Englishmen
that our nation
is not properly estimated by foreigners. Those, too, for whom we have
expended both treasure and blood often seem the least disposed to
acknowledge the debt, or to manifest any grateful recollection of it.
Yet, to assume ourselves the innocent and blameless victims. of
unmerited dislike, however consoling it may be to the national vanity
of the mass, would hardly satisfy the inquiries of a candid and
philosophic mind into the cause of an alienation so generally admitted.
The man who is not utterly blinded by national bigotry can hardly read
on the walls of the Vatican, and even in St. Peter's itself,
reflections in English of the most gross and insulting kind on the
Papal government without feeling that some members, at least, of our
country and creed have laid themselves and their nation open to
suspicion and dislike. The devout Romanist who repairs with pious
veneration to the most sacred of the mysteries of his religion is both
scandalized and shocked to behold St. Peter's converted into an
opera-house, and some of the most respectable of our countrymen and
countrywomen using their lorgnettes, talking and laughing,
with as much carelessness and indifference as they would display at an
opera or a ball. Nor is his respect or love for England and the English
much improved when he hears what was actually the case a few years ago,
that an English lady has placed her lap-dog on one of those consecrated
altars where he believes the presence of God incarnate daily manifests
itself. To say that we discredit the doctrine of transubstantiation is
but a poor apology for shocking the feelings of those who admit it.

It must be acknowledged, therefore, that
improprieties of this kind
must have a tendency to create an unfavorable impression concerning us;
yet this, I believe, is not the sole cause why we accord so little with
o9r continental neighbors.

We differ toto coelo from every other nation
on the face of
the earth. No one understands our institutions. They, areas
unintelligible to the mass of continentals as Shakspeare is. Try, for
instance, to make a Frenchman understand the precise character of the
Church of England, or of the English constitution. He would hardly be
able to reconcile the pretensions to Protestantism of the former with
her authoritative and dogmatic teaching: he would regard the latter as
the uninitiated do a piece of complex and intricate machinery. Our
social notions, too, are so peculiar. We can do nothing without asking
a man to dinner, and our friendship is con- - summated, like the
covenants of old, by eating. The foreigner will only give you eau
sucree and a cigar, and he looks upon invitations to dinner as monstrahorrenda--as a polite way of picking your neighbor's pocket. At
Malta, we have the mutual antagonism of the English and the continental
enacted on a small scale.

The English merchants who began to establish
themselves at Valetta
after 1815, were disposed to look with some contempt on the Maltese
baron or marchese who, with the blood of the Testaferratas in his
veins, lived on less than the wages of an ill-paid London clerk. And
the Maltese gentleman, repaying the pride of purse with the pride of
birth, avoided the society of the foreigner where his claims were not
appreciated or his position respected. Religion, too, interfered in the
way of union. The sturdy Protestant looked with surprise and contempt
on the large wooden images of the saints placed at every street corner,
which the devout Maltese saluted as often as he passed by. He was
indignant, as a man of business, to encounter daily such crowds of
priests, monks, and ecclesiastical idlers, who seemed to have nothing
to do but to contemplate and lounge. Moreover, collisions often took
place in the streets. The English refused to salute the host when
passing in procession, and the mob of Malta endeavored to enforce
compliance. Disturbances often occurred on this account, for the
Maltese are most zealous for the honor of their religion. I need
scarcely say, therefore, that they retaliated the contempt of the
foreigner with the most cordial hatred of him and his heresy. Nor was
this feeling softened or alleviated by the well-meant but injudicious
attempts at conversion which were made by some dissenting societies.

Yet, inimical as he may be to our race generally,
let us give the
Maltese fair play. When conciliated and treated properly, he can show
attachment and affection even to the cold impassive sons of the North.
The excellent Bishop of Gibraltar has done, and is doing, much to bring
the Maltese and the English into friendly contact, and I have never
heard his lordship's name mentioned by respectable and well educated
islanders, without hearing it coupled with the strongest expressions of
respect and esteem. His lordship has done much for Malta, and, if some
of his benevolent and well-meaning endeavors have not met with the
success they deserved, the fault must not be ascribed to want of good
will, but want of power in him who planned them.

The character of the Maltese seems, as our
transatlantic neighbors
would say, a cross between the Asiatic and the southern European. The
dark eyes, the brown complexion, the language, and the girdle commonly
worn by the peasantry, tell of an Eastern origin; but there is a degree
of liveliness and fire, and certain scintillations of taste and genius,
which claim an Italian descent. Like all insular people,-the Maltese
feels a pardonable pride in the place of his birth, which he dignifies
with the high-sounding title of Fior del Mondo, though its barren and
rocky soil can scarcely produce a flower.

Though the common language of Malta is a dialect of
the Punic or
Arabic, the law proceedings of the different courts are carried on in
Italian, a tongue perfectly unintelligible to the great mass of the
people. This might, perhaps, be of less consequence, if the Maltese
were not a most litigious race. Next to the clergy, rank the advocates,
in point of numbers. It is easy, therefore, to see that law, written
and administered in an unknown language, must give room for a thousand
quibbles and quiddities which add to the number of law-suits, and
benefit no one but the advocates. Another consideration is that this
marked preference for Italian on the part of the government tends to
retard the progress of the English language among the people. But few
speak it, and still fewer read it intelligibly.

The similarity of language attracts them rather to
the Italians and
to Italian literature, than to ourselves or our authors. Thus, even
when they do meet, the English and Maltese must encounter each other on
neutral ground. All communication must pass in an idiom with which
neither are perfectly familiar. The literature of Italy, too, can bear
no, comparison with our own for copiousness and richness. Works of
poetry, fiction, or devotion may be found in it, but scarcely any on
science or philosophy. And it may be questioned whether even, on the
three subjects alluded to, the tone of Italian writers is so pure and
unalloyed as might be wished. The Maltese, indeed, are not literary.
Business, gossip, and the siesta take up their time fully. Yet they
have no educational establishments, and those who wish their sons to
know more than their ancestors, send them either to the Jesuits in
Sicily or to the colleges in France. In the former, they do not imbibe
much liking for the heretical yoke of England; in the latter, they
acquire infidel notions and make themselves acquainted with the
morality of Eugene Sue and Georges Sand. But, with all this, there is
an institution at Valetta which claims the pompous title of the
University of Malta. They have Greek, Hebrew, mathematical, and Arabic
professors, who are paid less than the wages of a respectable
housemaid. A few boys assemble daily in the rooms of the University;
but the whole place looks as gloomy and deserted as the halls of Oxford
and Cambridge during a long vacation. Ever since the commencement of
our regime in Malta, there has been an uninterrupted succession of
changes. Rector has followed rector, and regulations, three months old,
have been made to give way to fresh ones, until the more sensible of
the Maltese lost all confidence in the institution, and the university
has become a theme for derision and ridicule.

Valetta, though far less than Calais or Dover,
boasts of a number of
newspapers; the editors of which supply the dearth of news by animated
and sometimes ungrammatical attacks on each other. When the freedom of
the press was claimed for Malta, the Duke of Wellington said something,
I believe; about the equal propriety of conceding it to the deck of a
man-of-war. Yet it was carried, and if the result has not been so
favorable as might have been expected, we certainly are not to blame.
We are the sufferers, for the Maltese use our gift to abuse us, and a
young Malta has taken its place among the other juvenilities of the
age, whose chief attempt at demonstrating its principles has been a
great effort to look ferocious and Italian. The exiles from Italy, to
whom we gave refuge, repaid our hospitality by inculcating republican
theories among the Maltese,2
while a Jesuit padre insinuated from the pulpit of one of the churches
that no government unsanctioned by the Pope could prosper, or ought to
be obeyed, which declarations he followed up by sundry lucubrations in
the Jesuit organ of Valetta.

Malta is a land of churches and of priests. The
former are
magnificent, and costly in their interiors, but as to the exterior,
they seem to share what I must always call the bareness of Italian
church architecture. But I- must own that I am an enthusiast for
Gothic, and therefore due allowance should be -made for my
declaration. The priests almost outnumber the lay population of the
town, to say nothing of

the monks. The bishop ordains any one who can, prove
he has a small
income, I believe not more than sixpence or a shilling a day. The
consequence is a vast influx of men into the clerical profession, who
find no work ready for them, and the sloth and indolence of which this
has been the necessary result have not improved the character of the
body. Unquestionably, many talented and worthy men may be found among
them, but their number is not legion, and in a profession where conduct
and deportment undergo the strictest scrutiny, things that might escape
censure in others are not easily passed over or forgotten.

At the corners of the streets or lanes of Valetta,
you perceive huge
images of the Virgin and of the Saints, arrayed in gorgeous apparel,
and having a lamp burning before them. The Maltese touch them
respectfully as they pass, and then press their hands to their lips, a
mode of salutation common among the idolaters of early times. To this
practice it is possible the book of Job alludes,3
when it says, " If I beheld the sun when it shined, or the moon walking
in brightness, and my heart hath been secretly enticed, or my mouth
bath kissed my hand." Such indeed is the extravagant veneration which
the Maltese pay to images and pictures, that a German priest, a man of
great talent and piety, exclaimed, after he had seen Valetla, almost in
the words of St. Luke, ''Surely the city is wholly given up to
idolatry." Much of the blame, however, of this must rest upon the
character of the people as well as of the clergy. An able preacher was
once selected to deliver the usual Lent sermons from the pulpit of St.
John's. A large congregation assembled at about six o'clock in the
morning to hear him. He began by dwelling forcibly on the necessity of
contrition and repentance, but he found his auditors yawning and
sleepy. Suddenly, he changed the theme, and began a wonderful legend of
some saint who walked a dozen miles with his head in his hand. Every
body rubbed their eyes, neighbor nudged neighbor; and the legend was
listened to with marked attention, while the moral instruction produced
a most soporific effect. The southern mind must always have truth in
parables, and religion in ceremonies. It can never tolerate the pure
abstraction.

The celibate life professed by the priesthood
enables them not only
to avoid expense, but to accumulate wealth. This generally descends to
the nephews and nieces, who supply the place of children to a race of
bachelors. It would scarcely be fair to assume, as a general rule, that
the single state produces and encourages the love of money, but most of
the Maltese ecclesiastics are noted for their saving propensities.

Some of the wealthiest of the clergy are the canons
of St. John's,
as the collegiate church was well endowed by the knights. One of the
chapter was once wending his way to vespers, when, as he was toiling
painfully up one of the streets of stairs leading to the church, he was
accosted by a mendicant, who, in a low whining tone, besought his
reverence to give him alms. The canon, who was not the most liberal of
men, attempted to brush by, but in vain. "Padre mio," whined
the beggar, "for the love of the Virgin, give me a shilling." The canon
gasped, threw up his eyes, and ejaculated, "Santa Maria!" with double
emphasis. "Will you give me sixpence then?" rejoined the beggar. "Go
along with you," said the canon. "A penny at least?" "No!" "A farthing,
perhaps?" "Not a grain," testily replied the priest. The mendicant
changed his ground. "Holy father, will you give me your blessing?"
"Ah!" said the canon, brightening up, "that is another thing; kneel
down, my son." "No," replied the beggar, "I, will not; I asked you for
a grain, and you refused me. Now, if your blessing were worth a grain
you would not bestow it, and so Addio, Padre mio."

Malta abounds of course with reminiscences of the
knights: they seem
to have been much beloved, though in many respects they held the reins
of government with a tight hand. No Maltese, however respectable, could
pass the palace of the Grand Master, without raising his hat. No native
of the - island could enter the order, although the highest dignities
connected with the church were open to him. The consequences of a life
of celibacy, professed by men in the flower of their age, and with much
leisure time on their hands, did not operate favorably on the morality
of the islanders. Concubinage was common, though strictly forbidden by
the statutes of the order.

Among the most peculiar of the customs of the
cavalieri, was the
regulation with regard to dueling, which recalled some of the practices
of early chivalry. The parties who quarreled were to repair to the next
street, unsheath their swords, and fight out their duel in public. But
at the command of a priest, a lady, or a senior knight, they were
enjoined to desist, and to be completely reconciled on the spot. Of
course, such encounters seldom terminated fatally. An old Maltese lady
told me that her interference had often been requested by the friends
of the belligerent parties, and in, no single instance had it ever
failed. An old Maltese priest averred that he had often been knocked up
at twelve o'clock at night to stop the warlike proceedings of some of
the younger cavalieri.

The government of Malta, during the sojourn of the
order, was vested
in the Grand Council, who exercised a check on the proceedings of their
chief. That sovereign was obliged to swear, at his inauguration,
faithfully to observe and respect the liberties of the Maltese and
their ancient institutions an oath which was, upon the whole,
religiously observed. Of the numerous Grand Masters who presided over
the destinies of the order since its removal to Malta, the annals only
record the name of one who acted with tyranny and bad faith. I have
heard, however, complaints that the exercise of the judicial functions
were subject to a certain controll, and that the Maltese judges were
mostly creatures of the Grand Master. Yet, with all their faults, the
Maltese remembers his old masters with regret. Old men will talk
sorrowfully of the times of "the religion," when the galleys returned
to Valetta laden with the spoils of the hated infidel, when the
crescent was hauled down amid the shouts of the Maltese sailors, and
the standard of St. John floated proudly in the breeze.

The Knights of Malta still retained an ancient
vestige of their
former occupation, as attendants on the sick, in the, hospital, which
they erected at Valetta. With a pardonable ostentation, they waited
themselves on the infirm inmates, and conveyed their food and medicines
in silver utensils. A large amount of plate belonging to this
charitable institution fell into the hands of the French, when they
obtained possession of the island.

Perhaps the most interesting part of Malta, as
connected with the
history of the knights, is the extreme point of the promontory, called
Mt. Xibaras, on which stands the comparatively modern Fort of St. Elmo.
It was witness to a feat of self-sacrifice and chivalry, which can
hardly find a parallel since the days of Leonidas.

At the commencement of the year 1565, the celebrated
Suliman filled
the Ottoman throne, a prince renowned for his success in war, and his
indelible hatred of the Christian name. The capture of a Turkish
vessel, belonging to one of his favorites, had filled him with
indignation against the Knights of Malta, which was still more
increased by the complaints of a numerous crowd, who beset' him on his
passage to the mosque, and demanded, with loud cries, satisfaction for
the losses they had sustained from the enterprise, and restless
activity of the galleys of the order. The voice of his people found an
echo in the bosom of the monarch, and Suliman determined to fit out a
fleet and army that should reduce the island, and totally exterminate
its defenders. One hundred and fifty-nine galleys received on board an
armament of thirty thousand men, the flower of the Turkish troops, and
on the 18th May, 1660, these formidable invaders appeared in sight of
Malta. Besides these, their commander, Mustapha Pasha, was promised the
valuable aid of the Viceroy of Algiers, the inveterate enemy of the
knights, whose prowess by sea he had proved on many occasions.

The Grand Master, Lavalette, could only muster about
seven hundred
knights, and a motley force of nearly eight thousand five hundred men,
composed of the servants at arms, the mercenary troops in the pay of
the order, and some peasants and natives of the island, whom attachment
to the order, and fear of the sanguinary cruelties of the Turks, had
impelled to take up arms. With these inadequate numbers, he intrenched
himself in the modern town of Burgo, to the south of the great harbor,
having the Fort of St. Angelo, which had been strongly garrisoned,
between his forces and the promontory of Xibaras. The latter place
became now of great importance, from its central position between the
two harbors, into one of which it was necessary for the Turks to
penetrate. The commander, Duguarras, with sixty knights, and a company
of infantry, shut themselves up in the Fort of St. Elmo, determined to
maintain it to the last, even at the cost of Their lives. It was there
the Turks made their first attack. On the 24th of May, the Pasha
commanded a general assault, but he was met with the utmost gallantry,
and repelled with a heavy loss. Attack after attack was made in vain;
but the number of the defenders decreased daily, and notwithstanding
the succors dispatched from time to time by the Grand Master, it be
came evident that the fort must shortly fall into the hands of the
assailants. At length, the Turks, having succeeded in penetrating a
short distance into the mouth of the great harbor, prevented any
reinforcements from reaching the devoted garrison, who, thus abandoned
to their fate, determined to prepare themselves for that death which
appeared to all inevitable. The little band receivedwith
devotion and fervor, the last sacraments of the church, and then,
embracing each other, they repaired to the breach, bearing along with
them the wounded in chairs, and there waited the assault of their
enemies. On the morning of the 23d of June, the Pasha gave the signal
to attack, the conflict was sharp and decisive, and the fall of the
last knight, covered with wounds, was succeeded by the planting of the
crescent on the ramparts of St. Elmo.

CHAPTER IV

AT Malta, one seems to be on the frontier line which
separates the
East from the West. It is a kind of neutral ground, on which the habits
of the Orient mingle with the usages of Europe. In leaving it,
therefore, I felt that I had quitted for a time, that might be more or
less prolonged, all the associations and customs of past years. Nor can
I tell whether, in doing so, the emotions of pleasure or regret most
predominated. The feeling that a new world was opening before me was
sobered by the reflection that the old one was fast passing away,
never, perhaps, to be beheld again by me.

The traveler for mere amusement can leave without
regret scenes that
he may shortly anticipate to welcome once more; but one whose lot is
fixed in the country to which he is journeying feels that the
uncertainty of return clothes with interest each receding object. I
could not watch, with mere indifference, the distant towers of Valetta,
as our vessel moved on, and they became gradually more indistinct, and
soon disappeared entirely from view.

For years, the East has exercised a mysterious
influence over the
Western mind. It has been the ElDorado of the
imagination, and still continues to captivate and allure the fancy, in
spite of the prosaic and matter-of-fact attempts of modern travelers to
dissipate the illusion, and to destroy the charm. The pages of Marco
Polo and Mandeville represent the East of our boyhood, with its various
marvels, its mysteries, and its magnificence, but the efforts and
energies of their successors have been used to demonstrate that
Oriental gold is but tinsel, after all, and that its mysteries and its
marvels are as shadowy and unreal as the tales which amuse the
uncriticizing fancy of childhood. Truth is sometimes unpleasant, and we
do not always thank the hand that tears down the enchanted veil, and
shows us squalidness and misery, in the place of the gilded visions ofimagination.

My anticipations were, perhaps, less brilliant than
those of the
untraveled generally are, for, during my stay at Malta, I had heard
much of the region to which I was going, and some of my illusions were
beginning to fade away. But still there remained much to expect, and to
wish for, and it was, therefore, upon the whole, rather gratifying to
find one's self once more en route.

My compagnons de voyage were as mixed a crew
as one might
wish to see. There were three old Jews with dirty gaberdines, and still
dirtier faces, whose gray, uncombed beards hung raggedly down almost to
their waists. Their cunning eyes, as stealthy as the glances of a cat,
gleamed wilily from beneath their high-arched eyebrows. They seemed
every moment to anticipate being either deceived by craft, or plundered
by violence. I could have pictured each of them in the position of
Isaac of York, eyeing ruefully and suspiciously the hot glowing bars of
his dungeon grate, and struggling internally with fear of pain and love
of gold. They appeared like Ishmaelites of the town, every man against
them, and they against every one. A hard-featured, stern-looking monk,
with the aspect of an inquisitor, gazed with undisguised contempt on
the children of Abraham; several of his brethren were near him, all
going to be employed in the Levantine Missions. One or two Oriental
physiognomies mingled with the group on the main deck, looking awkward,
and by no means at home in their semi-European dress.

An Italian artist, with his sketch book under his
arm, was going to
settle at Constantinople, for he said that, in consequence of the
progress of civilization, the Turks might require his services as a
miniature painter. Another countryman of his, who had picked up a
smattering of physic somewhere, intended to bestow on the unfortunate
infidels the fruits of his medical science. He owned he knew little of
drugs, but "che fare"times were hard, and he must live,
even by other people's deaths. An interesting exile sought for that
liberty, under the paternal government of Turkey, which was denied him
under the equally paternal regime of Austria. One man was going
to teach the Turks to ride; another intended to be their instructor in
the art of war. Verily, the poor Ottomans had reason to exclaim, "Save
me from my friends," or rather from those who desire to become such.
Then there was the usual quota of traveling Englishmen,
looking stern and dissatisfied at everybody, a shabbilydressed German
prince, with I do not know how many ancestors; and some gay and lively
Frenchmen, who seemed disposed to treat everything with a shrug and a ma
foi. An enthusiastic American was bent on turning Sancta Sophia
into a Presbyterian meeting-house, and had no doubt of success,
although, like George Primrose, he seemed to have forgotten that, in
order that he might teach the Turks Christianity, it was necessary that
they should first teach him Turkish.

But we are in sight of land. Telescopes are in
requisition
immediately. Guide-books are produced, and referred to with much
anxiety. A large map is spread over the covering of the hatchway, and
the report that land is in sight seems to stir up everybody to
redoubled cheerfulness and activity. Young tourists, from college,
strain their eyes, and recall all their classical recollections. The
deep blue eyes of the German beam with enthusiasm; the Frenchmen become
silent for a moment; young ladies divide their attention between Lord
Byron and the horizon; the Englishman lays clown his newspaper; while
our American friend ejaculates nasally, "that's Greece, I guess."

And Greece it is, as we ascertain from the captain,
or at least a
very barren part of it, ycleped Cape Matapan. It is a rocky headland,
jutting out into the sea, respectable from its connections, but by no
means interesting in itself, and we look upon it as we should upon the
ninety-ninth cousin of Napoleon, or some other great man. On the
declivity towards the sea, a few stones piled together was pronounced
to be a hermitage; but it was uninhabited. Perhaps the hermit had left
in disgust, at the modern innovation of steamers; perhaps he was tired
of contemplating nothings save pontus et air; but all seemed to agree
that he had not been visible of late years. And now we are entering the
Archipelagoù

"The Isles of Greece, the Isles of
Greece,

Where burning Sappho lived and sang."

But we saw no burning Sappho, only a few Greek
fishermen, who, with
their long disheveled locks covering their shoulders, gazed at us as we
moved by them. At length, Syra was pronounced in sight, and we soon
discerned its cone-shaped rock emerging from the waters. We anchored in
face of the small town, situated at the foot of the mountain, the
higher part of which is inhabited chiefly by Greek Catholics, or those
members of the Greek Church who acknowledge the supremacy, and submit
to the sway, of the Roman pontiff.

A dilapidated flag, placed on the roof of the
quarantine
establishment, announced that we were on the point of entering the
jurisdiction of King Otho, upon whom one of our English
fellow-travelers pronounced no very flattering eulogiums, as
we entered the close and filthy streets of his dominions. It seems to
be an indisputable axiom, with many of our errant countrymen, that the
government of a foreign country is responsible for everything, even for
the ill-washed faces and ragged garments of its subjects. The southern
nations are not generally noted for cleanliness, although one might
expect that the heat would render the cold bath a pleasing and
agreeable resort. Yet the use of the cold element is not common even in
Turkey, where the ablutions are performed in a room filled with steam,
and with almost boiling water.

The dress of the Greeks of Syra was of a very mixed
character. Some
of the loungers, whom we had encountered on landing, wore a bad
imitation of the European costume; others retained the kilts, buskins,
and jackets of their native lurid; while a third party appeared in the
modern Egyptian costume. The two latter were, certainly, more graceful
than the' former, yet the traveler, who has worn or beheld the hawing
robes of Asia, will not be easily reconciled to their tight compression
of the arms and legs. The Greek, or Albanian jacket struck one as being
more comfortless, although, perhaps, more ornamental, than the dress
coat of Europe; while the buskins, although they presented an elegant
and showy appearance, must yield, to point of ease, to the loose
unfettered drawers of Turkey.

The streets of Syra are very steep, owing to the
nature of the
ground on which the town -is built. Its population, which exceeds
thirteen thousand, is larger than the first view of the `houses would
seem to warrant; but it appears credible enough, after you have
traversed the various ins and outs, the turnings and the bends, which
are most numerous and complicated. After some difficulty, we reached
the house of the Rev. Mr. Hildner, a German clergyman, in the service
of the English Church Missionary Society. Mr.H. has opened his
schools, under the sanction ofgovernment, and is on good terms
with the authorities, both civil and ecclesiastical. His establishment
consists of a school for boys, and another for girls, and many of his
pupils are children of the most respectable Greek families.

It, seemed strange to hear little Greek girls of six
or severs years
ofage reading and translating, with ease and fluency, thepages
of Herodotus and Xenophon. But the similarity of the modern dialect to
the ancient Hellenic renders this comparatively easy. One of our party,
however, who piqued himself upon his classical knowledge, was
unsuccessful in his attempts to converse in the old dialect with a
little girl of ten years who professed to understand and speak
Hellenic; but the unintelligibility on both sides was probably
occasioned by the difference of pronunciation. The modern Greeks
pronounce Beta like v, and Upsilon like i, or y,
while they give the Chi a guttural aspiration, like that of
the German ch. The diphthongs, too, are nearly all pronounced
alike, so that the most eminent English scholar would have some
difficulty in recognizing by ear even the well-known verses of Homer,
if they were read aloud to him.

From the schools, we proceeded to the Greek church;
a small, and by
no means inelegant building, standing in the midst of a species of
quadrangle, on the four sides of which were the dwellings of the
priests. They were all dressed, in a kind of long dark cassock,
reaching to the ankles, over which was thrown a gown of black cloth.
Their hair was worn long, and surmounted by a small round cap. Every.
one was bearded, for the beard is considered; all over the East, a
necessary appendage to the priestly office. A Syrian ecelesiastic whom
I knew at Malta remarked of the late Bishop Alexander, that he was a
very good man, but that he had no beard, and hinted that this latter
disqualification for episcopacy was by no means a light one.

The clergy of the Greek Church are permitted to
marry while in
deacons' orders, but their bishops and monks are unmarried. If,
however, the wife of a papas dies, he cannot give her a successor, and
it is said that the knowledge of this gains for her a larger amount of
respect and attention than is usually the lot of her sex in the East. A
friend of mine, who had, resided some time in Syra, was surprised, on
entering the house of one of the principal priests, to find the
reverend papas washing, with his own ands, the linen of the household.
On inquiring the reason, the papas replied, "I do this to save my wife
labor, that she may live the longer, for you know, O Kyrie, that the
law of our church does not permit me to have another, and I wish to
keep this as long as I can."

Preaching forms rarely a portion of the Greek
service, the people
being instructed in their moral duties chiefly through the medium of
the confessional. Confession is one of the Seven Sacraments which the
Greeks hold in common with the Latins; but, among the former, the
priest is forbidden to question the penitent, and the latter is not
bound to reveal everything, but merely, such offences as seem to
require ghostly counsel and advice. In the Greek church, the altar,
which is square in form, and strongly resembles our own, is separated
from the nave by a wooden screen, richly decorated and hung with
pictures of the Saviour and the saints. These portraits have frequently
the heads, arms, or hands, formed of thin silver plates, which are
fastened to the canvass, and present a curious medley, half-image,
half-picture. The pulpit, which, although rarely used, forms generally
part of the church furniture, is always surmounted by the figure of a
dove, with extended wings, said to represent the Holy Ghost. The part
screened off from the choir is termed the Holy of Holies,, and,
strictly speaking, should never be entered by a layman; but this rule
is not always observed.

Leaving the church, we re-embarked, and in a few
hours' were
entering the Gulf of Smyrna. Its shores are formed by two ranges of
mountains which unite, just above the city, in a kind of semicircle.
The eye wanders with pleasure find interest along the thickly-wooded
declivities, till its view rests upon the dark groves of cypress which
indicate the site of the cemeteries, the cities of the dead. At the
foot of Mount Pagus, is seen the modern town, extending itself along
the eastern shore of the gulf, and marking by its domes and minarets
the triumph of the crescent over the cross.

Smyrna is generally the first oriental city that
greets the eye of
the wanderer in Eastern climes, nor does its aspect disappoint the
poetical and romantic visions which he may have felt disposed to
cherish. The gay colors, and almost Italian exterior of the houses on
the quay, conceal the narrow and somewhat filthy streets of the
interior, while the really elegant shapes of the domes and minarets,
which tower above them, delight as much by their novelty as by their
intrinsic beauty. As the eye wanders over the mass of houses, it rests
upon the rich and luxuriant gardens which border the town, the
picturesque ruins that crown the summit of Mount Pagus, and the not
inelegant outlines of the villages in the environs.

Nor is the illusion dispelled when, on landing, the
new comer finds
himself among the oriental crowd, and gazes, with a mingled feeling of
amazement and admiration, on the rich flowing robes of the East, or the
gay and glittering costume of the Albanians or Egyptians. As he
proceeds along, the narrow streets, with their latticed houses, excite
his attention, which is, perhaps, more rudely solicited by a string of
loaded camels, whose driver jostles him unceremoniously aside as he
passes. Interruptions, indeed, the traveler must expect at every step.
Some of these will almost recall to his memory, if he be classical,
Horace's humorous accounts of similar troubles in the streets of Rome.
A carpenter, with a beam on his shoulder, assails you in front, a file
of Turkish soldiers takes you in the rear. A newly-arrived Englishman
in Constantinople was once coolly pushed out of the way with the butt
end of a musket, for Turkish soldiers are not prone to sacrifice much
to the courtesies of life. You stand engaged in mute admiration of some
ancient pillar placed in a modern wine-shop, when a yell like the cry
of a despairing Afrite bursts on your ear, and you rush madly into the
embraces of a stout, portly Armenian banker, very much to his surprise
and your own.

Yet, if heedless of these little inconveniences, you
make your way
into the bazaar, and establish yourself on one of the stools in front
of any of the coffee-houses, you will there be enabled to satiate
yourself to the full with Eastern peculiarities and costumes. Inhaling
the fumes of what you may call, if you please, the pipe of
contemplation, you will not want objects to attract your attention, and
inspire you with interest. Above you is the arched roof of the bazaar,
gracefully adorned with arabesque painting, and gay with many and
brilliant devices. Around you are the shops of which you have so often
read in boyhood's chosen classic, the Arabian Nights. How astonished
you are to find, instead of the large room usually dignified by the
name of a shop in London and Paris, its oriental namesake assuming the
form and dimensions of an English stall, or of one of those traveling
places of merchandize which one meets with in one's peregrinations at
home, laden with fruit or cheap china. The Eastern shop is merely a
small square recess in the wall, having a board projecting forth a
little way, which serves the double purpose of a counter and a seat. On
this the merchant sits cross-legged, smoking his never-failing pipe.
You feel in want of something, and would fain have dealings with him,
but you are in a land where business is not transacted with the same
undignified and uncomfortable rapidity as in England or America.

You make your salutation with much ceremony to the
merchant, which
he returns in the same manner. Mutual inquiries after each other's
health then take place, after which the merchant, if respectable, sends
for pipes and coffee from the next coffee-house, or, if poor, he takes
the pipe from his lips, wipes the mouth-piece on his sleeve, and hands
it to you with a low bow, pressing, at the same time, his hand to his
heart. Inclining your head gently, you accept the proffered kindness,
and after some indifferent conversation venture to hint at the object
of your visit. The goods are brought forth and displayed upon the
board, while you make your choice. And, after a little haggling, but
very little if your tradesman is a Turk, you pay your money, and with
mutual salutations depart rather with the air of one who has received,
than one who has conferred a favor.

The crowd of persons passing and repassing in the
bazaars is very
great, and mingled with them are numbers of the fair sex, enveloped in
veils, or rather wrappers of blue stuff, which reach about half way
down the long yellow boots which the Turkish ladies always wear abroad.
Their faces are partially concealed by another veil, or cloth of white,
which is so arranged as to leave visible only the eyes and the upper
half of the nose. They have an unpleasant, ghostlike appearance, and
reminded me almost of an old schoolboy acquaintance, the Ghoul wife
Amina, who was surprised by her husband while devouring a corpse in the
neighboring cemetery.

As we were rambling through the streets, a
ragged-looking Jew came
up and offered to be our guide, for a consideration of course. He was
the first Israelite I had seen dressed in the Oriental garb, and it
harmonized well with his peculiar features and Eastern physiognomy. Go
where they will, the Hebrews bear about with them the indelible marks
of their Asiatic origin. The same love of decoration, the same taste
for gaudy colors, yea, the same appetite for fried fish, distinguish
the inhabitants of Damascus and the denizens of Petticoat Lane. I even
fancied, on entering the Jewish quarter of Smyrna, that I recognized
that peculiar odor which characterizes also those parts of London
devoted to the sale of old clothes.

As foreigners are allowed in Smyrna to visit the
mosques, we
determined to avail ourselves of this toleration, and desired our
conductor to get us admission. Fresh from Europe, we did not think of
the prejudices entertained by the Mohammedans with regard to Jews, or
anticipate that we should incur the wrath of the faithful, by
introducing a Chefoot into the precincts of one of their places of
worship. We were soon reminded of whom we had to deal with.

At the porch of the Great Mosque, the Jew stopped,
and entered into
conversation with a stout, good-natured looking Mohammedan, who, after
a little whispering, consented to admit us. We were ordered to pull off
our shoes, and this we were quite willing to do, but unfortunately a
lady of our party had on a pair of tightly laced boots, and the lace
got into a knot as she was endeavoring in great haste to unfasten it,
so that they could not be taken off. Here was a dilemma. The lady could
not be left in the street, like the heroine of some old knightly
romance, surrounded by ferocious-looking Saracens, and she was also
very anxious to see the interior of a mosque. The Jew offered our stout
friend, who was a kind of sexton there, a small douceur, but he shook
his head. The boots were tried again, but the tangled lace was
inexorable, and there seemed to be but little chance of our gaining
admittance.

At last, one of the standers-by recollected that a
great devotee,
one Hadjee Mohammed Ibn Abdallah, had left at his decease a pair of
holy slippers to the mosque, which slippers were said to inherit the
odor of sanctity. Now the shoes of so great a man were evidently better
than even the feet or stockings of a female Kafir, and therefore it was
agreed that our fair companion should encase her feet, boots and all,
in the holy slippers of the late Hadjee. The slippers were brought;
they were very dilapidated, very dirty, and if the odor which exhaled
from them was the odor of sanctity, it was certainly not very grateful
to the nose. The lady gazed at the holy shoes for some time, with
indecision mingled with apprehension, and probably with a sort of
conviction that, had she been at home, she would have called her maid
to take them up with the tongs and deposit them within the dust-hole,
however, there was no help for it, and so, with an air of resignation,
she thrust her feet into them, and entered the mosque.

We found the interior a lofty and spacious
apartment, the marble
floor of which was covered with matting. In one of the walls, looking
in the direction of Mecca, was the kublah, or niche, towards which the
worshipers turned their faces in prayer. By the niche was the mimber,
or pulpit, whence the mollah delivered his weekly sermon. From the roof
was suspended a thin iron ring, around which was attached a circle of
small glass lamps; several large ostrich eggs and horse tails depended,
attached above by brass chains. In fact, nothing can be plainer than
the Mohammedan houses of prayer. They rarely have any other decorations
than those which I have mentioned, excepting, perhaps, the ornamental
writing round the cornices, consisting of sentences from the Koran;
among these, the profession of faith, "There is but one God, and
Mohammed is the prophet of God," appears generally the most
conspicuous.

On one occasion, a respectable Greek of
Constantinople paid a visit
of curiosity to one of the mosques of the capital. He was acquainted
with Arabic, and was endeavoring to decipher the writing on the walls;
without dreaming of the consequences, he read half aloud the fatal
words, "There is but one God, and Mohammed is the prophet of God." Two
Turks who were standing by overheard him, and immediately arrested and
conveyed him before the Cadi, who gave sentence that he had uttered the
creed of Islam, and must therefore make a public profession of the
Mohammedan religion in court, or lose his head. Overcome with
astonishment and terror, the trembling Greek repeated mechanically the
fatal words which sealed him as an apostate for ever. Two nights
afterwards, he fled to Venice, where, for aught I know to the contrary,
he still resides.

Having seen all that was worthy of notice in the
mosque, we prepared
to leave it, but we were not fortunate enough to depart in peace; it
may be that the shade of Hadjee Mohammed was hovering over the spot,
determined, to have vengeance for the disrespect and profanation
inflicted on his holy shoes: from a side door there entered, in a great
rage, the, mollah himself, who, rushing up to our Hebrew conductor,
overwhelmed him with epithets of abuse. B---- to pacify the angry man
of the law, but in vain, he slapped the Jew's face till it rang again,
and insisted upon his walking outside instantly. B---- thought it best
to order him to wait for us without, and this moderation rather
appeased the mollah, who began a kind of grumbling apology for his
violence, adding, however, that Jew dogs were only made to be kicked
and spit upon, as a kind of prelude, no doubt, to the tortures of
Gehennam which they shall receive in the next world; the Koran says
they will be far below the Christians. We did not feel disposed to
enter into conversation on the matter, and left the mosque.

We rejoined the poor beaten Jew in the street, who
complained
greatly of the persecution suffered by his people at the hands of
Mohammedans. The Jews in Smyrna have their separate quarter, the gates
of which are locked every night. Once a fire broke out in that part,
and the guards, through malice or design, left the gates closed, so
that many Jews lost their lives.

The environs of Smyrna present pictures of the most
romantic beauty,
and afford an agreeable contrast to the dark, narrow, and dirty lanes
of the town. Most of the European merchants have their country houses
in the neighboring villages of Boudjar, Bournabat, and Sidi Kioay.
Through the gardens or plantations which arise at the back, of the
town, glide the limpid waves of the Meles, on whose banks, perhaps,
Homer wandered when he composed his deathless songs; a rude arch of
stone, termed generally the caravan bridge, crosses the Meles not far
from the foot of the hill, or Acropolis, on which the citadel once
stood. In its vicinity, are several coffee-houses, which receive the
holidaymakers of the city on Sundays and other festivals; when may be
seen in groups the phlegmatic Turk, dozing over his pipe and seeing
visions in the bright tinted clouds, the gay chattering Greek, and the
grave Armenian, who seldom speaks except for a consideration; together
with the tight swathed and bandaged forms of the sons of Frangistan,
who, with miserable taste, prefer generally their monkeyfied costume to
the loose, comfortable, and elegant attire of the Oriental.

We left Smyrna in the afternoon, and when I woke the
next morning, a
general clatter-and bustle seemed to announce that we were nearing the
imperial city, even Stamboul itself. I hurried on my habiliments, and
rushing upon deck beheld a vision of the most glorious and exquisite
beauty, far surpassing anything that the most poetical imagination
could conceive. I feel my powers of description too feeble and too
unsatisfactory to paint the impressions which that scene of more than
fairy splendor stamped upon my soul. On my left were the seven towers,
the ancient fortifications, the palace of the seraglio with its
gardens, and innumerable domes and minarets gilded by the rays of the
scarcely risen sun. Beyond was the hilly suburb of Pera, with the
cypresses of its cemetery, the Champ des Morts, waving mournfully in
the morning breeze, and the ornamented fountain of Top Khana, with
hundreds of swift cayiques4
skimming lightly over the placid waves of the Bosphorus. To the right
were the Princes' Islands, with their richly-wooded summits and ancient
monastery, the Gulf of Nicomedia, and the gloomy-looking cemeteries of
Scutari, while, almost united at the back of the picture, rose the
mountains of Europe and Asia, winding and entwining themselves in such
a manner as to seem one vast semicircle of hills, covered with kiosks
and vineyards, and adorned equally by the luxuriance of nature and the
mechanical elegance of art.

We disembarked, and were soon toiling up the narrow
lanes of Pera,
attended by a couple of Turkish hamals or porters, who conducted us and
our baggage in safety to the hospitable portals of Madame Josephine,
who herself appeared at her gate, with a good-humored countenance,
radiant with smiles, to welcome us to Constantinople and to the
Bellevue.

CONSTANTINOPLE has been so frequently and so ably
described, that I
deem it almost needless to say anything respecting it, except perhaps
to express a warm admiration of the romantic beauty of its environs,
and to extol the many opportunities which it affords a stranger of
being initiated, at a cheap rate, into the manners of the East. Not
indeed that living or lodgings are reasonable in cost, but a sojourn in
the capital encroaches less upon your pocket or your ease than an
excursion in the provinces would do, and you are enabled to keep up
some of your European associations, which must be abandoned entirely in
the purely Oriental regions of the Country. It is a mistake to imagine
that the civilization of The metropolis has made its way into the rural
districts, or that hotels and clean linen are ready to welcome those
who venture even twenty miles from the gates of Constantinople. The
traveler in the interior must carry with him his bed, his cooking
utensils, his saddles, and his medicines, and reckon upon finding
nothing on the road but bare provisions, and ont always a
superabundance of these.

We spent the last three days of our sojourn in the
Turkish capital
in making such purchases as seemed necessary for the journey. Padded
saddles, water bags, capotes, stuffed coverlets, and traveling boots,
were among the principal articles which we required. These were all
made up in bundles, and dispatched on board the Austrian steamer, in
which we embarked for Samsoun, on the Black Sea, which we reached
without any disaster, even without sea-sickness, which seems, according
to an unsavory couplet of Lord Byron's, inseparably connected with the
Euxine.

We passed Sinope, the dwelling-place of the cynical
Diogenes, and, a
few hours after, were discharged with our baggage into a large boat
that was hired to convey us to the, shore. But, as the sea was very
shallow, and would not allow our bark, which was a very primitive
affair, to approach near enough to the land, we were carried through
the intervening water on men's shoulders, a mode of transit which I
recollect was formerly practiced at Calais during the good old days. I
had no reason to complain of my biped, who was a stout able-bodied
fellow, a hamal, or porter by trade, and therefore used to bearing
burdens. Glass or crockery could not have been carried more carefully,
and as I looked back and saw one of my companions struggling in the
agonies of fear with his steed, a struggle which ended in their both
going down with a heavy splash, I really felt no inconsiderable amount
of gratitude to the broad-shouldered bearer of burdens who had
acquitted himself so successfully.

Marshaled by the vice-consul's khawass, we proceeded
to the
consulate, but found that the house was undergoing repairs, and that of
course we could not be accommodated there. A lodging was, however,
procured in the street hard by, and, after a good dinner at the
hospitable board of Mr. Stevens, we repaired to our new quarters.

They were decidedly airy, for one of the rooms Was
nothing more than
a raised platform of wood, with a very dilapidated roof, and sheltered
at the sides by two walls of very questionable stability. A group of
curious idlers, who had followed us from the consulate, stood gazing on
our preparations for retiring to rest. These were soon made. I laid
down my padded coverlet on the floor, and, having rolled up several
miscellaneous articles so as to form a kind of extempore pillow, I
wrapt myself in my capote, and, drawing the hood comfortably over my
head, was dozing quietly off, When my incipient slumbers were
interrupted by a low hissing sound. I immediately thought of snakes,
and, flinging off my hood, started up in some alarm, but was speedily
reassured on perceiving that the noise proceeded from the whispers of a
group of women who had thrust their heads through a kind of trap-door,
and were scrutinizing me at their leisure: The movement I made startled
them in their turn, and with a suppressed titter, they vanished,
leaving me to undisturbed slumbers.

We rose early the next morning, and after breakfast,
prepared to
commence our journey. We had secured at Constantinople the services of
a Tatar, who, for a certain sum, bad covenanted to convey us safely to
Mosul. He was an old Turk, with by no means a prepossessing
countenance, which was rendered more grim by the mutilated condition of
his nose, as well as by the ferocious pair of mustachios which extended
on either side of it.

Mohammed Aga, for such was his appellation, bad been
for many years
on the road, but he was now getting stiff and infirm, and could no
longer discharge the more active duties of his profession. He was not
intrusted, therefore, with the conveyance of government dispatches, as
these demanded the activity and dispatch of a younger man. But, as
travelers now and then required his services, he had not relinquished
entirely his occupation as a Tatar. He was habited in a short jacket,
richly braided, his nether man being enveloped in an enormous pair of
trunk breeches, terminated by Turkish boots. He wore on his head a fez
or red cap, with a blue silk tassel, bound round his brows by a small
shawl or handkerchief arranged turban-wise. In addition to this useful
protector and guide, we were provided with a magnificent parchment
document from his majesty the Sultan, answering the purpose of a
continental passport, and known by the name of a firman. This document,
however, proved eventually of little use, and it was only by the active
endeavors of Mohammed Aga, or Kuslrer Oglu as he was sometimes called,
that we were enabled to get on at all in many parts of the journey.

The country about Samsoun. presented a most
agreeable appearance. To
the south of the town extends a long range of hills in an easterly
direction, covered with luxuriant vegetation, and crowned on the summit
by forests of the stunted oak and the graceful acacia. As we advanced,
our cavalcade proceeded through leafy avenues formed by projecting
branches, which, mingling together overhead, proved a grateful shelter
from the powerful rays of the mid-day sun. Here and there, patches of
green, sown with wild flowers of various colors, retained their verdure
unimpaired, protected by the kindly shade. The silence was unbroken,
save by the song of numbers of feathered choristers, who, from their
unseen fastnesses in the wood, poured forth an unremitted strain of
harmony; occasionally crossing our path, and resting listlessly for a
moment on the wing, to take a passing view of the invaders of their
tranquillity.

We were now in Pontus, the region to which the great
St. Basil
transported the monastic system from the flat plains and desert wastes
of Egypt. Yet not here, in the midst of nature's secluded beauties, did
he fix the abodes of silent meditation and ceaseless prayer. In the
rough and savage mountain scenery which borders the dark and
inhospitable Euxine, the mind, retiring from the world and its
attractive loveliness, found a congenial home. Dark, frowning
precipices, and the summits of rocky eminences, tutored the thoughts to
higher and more sublime musings. In the majestic and yet fearful
solitudes where nature appeared in her grander features, amidst the
dark mountain pines and the roaring cascades of a more uncultivated
region, men learned to anticipate the terrific splendors of the last
great day, the wreck of nature, and the expiring convulsions of
creation. The early monks betrayed a singular indifference to the
loveliness of a world which they had renounced. The worn and wasted
regions in which they generally chose to dwell awoke, perhaps,
responsive and sympathetic emotions in hearts too deeply sensible of
the barrenness and emptiness of all created things.

As we emerged from the shelter of the forests, the
sky, which had
hitherto preserved a placid and smiling aspect, became overcharged with
dark and lowering clouds; the rain poured down in torrents, and it
seemed desirable that we should seek for some shelter from its
violence. We were still at some distance from the place of our
destination; but the Tatar remembered that, by diverging a little from
the road, we might reach the village of Cazal Kiouy, where he hoped to
find shelter for us.

We put our beasts to a gallop, and, after riding
bard for about half
an hour, we reached a small collection of mud houses, but learned to
our great disappointment that the khan had been occupied early in the
day by a caravan of merchants, who of course could not be dislodged.
Some delay ensued, but at last the Tatar made room for us in one of the
neighboring houses, where he proposed we should spend the night, and
then set forward in the morning.

The people to whom the dwelling belonged were
transferred, without
much ceremony, to an adjoining house, and we hastened with our baggage
to take possession of the only decent room on the first story. We
ascended by a flight of ruinous wooden stairs, abounding in yawning
gaps which, threatened to swallow us up at every step. By cautious
climbing, however, we succeeded in reaching the top, and beheld before
us our destined quarters. If we had been fastidious, the exhibition
would have been a sore trial to the nerves. A fire of green wood, just
lighted, was pouring forth volumes of smoke, which seemed to be making
furious charges against the wind and rain, in its laudable endeavors to
force itself through a very wide aperture in the roof. A shriveled old
crone, whom I rather ungallantly thought resembled strongly one of the
witches in Macbeth, was laboring hard to arrange in some order a vast
quantity of small apples, which covered the floor so thickly that not a
vestige of it could be discerned.

The Tatar and our servants came to her assistance,
and at length
succeeded, with some trouble, in piling up- two ranges of apple hills
against the walls, leaving a sort of valley in the centre for our
accommodation. Tired, wet, and hungry,, we crowded round the
fire, our eyes distilling tears, which mingled with the drops of rain
descending from above.

The old woman had put on a large caldron in which
was our future
dinner, and, as the flame cast its, gleam over her decrepit,
yet strongly marked, features and long withered arms moving hither and
thither, one might have deemed her an aged portrait of her countrywoman
Medea, engaged in the preparation of some mystic charm. The worthy old
sybil, however, was very kind and courteous, nodding benignantly to us
from time to time, as if to bid us make ourselves at home. The dinner
was soon ready, and, having devoured it as well as we could, it seemed
advisable to retire as soon as possible to rest. A sheet, extended
curtain wise across the room, separated me from my friend Band-his
wife; we bade each other good night, and, having arranged my bed as
well as I could in the valley before alluded to, I endeavored to
compose myself to slumber.

For some time I could not get settled. Avalanches of
apples poured
down from the hills on each side, but at last their locomotive
propensities seemed at an end, and I comforted myself with the hope of
a good night's rest. The lights were put out in both the compartments,
and a silence ensued, which was broken at length by a groan from the
other side of the curtain. I soon knew the cause. In four or five
minutes, I was covered with myriads of fleas, assisted by other of
their allies, who poured in from all quarters. Sleep became out of the
question. I groaned and writhed in vain, fresh bites followed each
contortion, and my voracious tormentors seemed to be making my body one
vast wound. My companions fared no better, and groan answered groan
from either side of the curtain. At length, a desperate contortion of
mine disturbed the equilibrium of the apples, and brought down such a
shower upon me as almost to bury me beneath them.

I could bear it no longer; but, groping my way down
the ruined
staircase as well as I could, I joined the Tatar, who, with our
servants, had comfortably established himself in the lower story. Too
feverish to sleep, I availed myself of the remedy he recommended,
namely, two cups of Turkish coffee, and, lighting my pipe, I smoked on
till the break of day admonished as to mount and away. Thus ended my
first night's experience of traveling in the interior.

The next morning, we all mounted and rode sleepily
along, still
retaining about us the reminiscences of the preceding night's
encounters. The road lay through part of the forest we had entered an
the previous day, on emerging from which we entered a widely-extended
plain bordered by low hills. The flat dullness of the level ground was
succeeded by the no less wearying ascents and descents of the hill
country, which had not been improved by the rains.

After a ride of nine hours we came in sight of
Ladik, a pretty town
situated in a kind of recess at the foot of some gather lofty bills. We
were assigned quarters in the house of an Armenian baker; where we were
certainly free from the inconveniences of Cazal Kiouy; but our night's
rest was not improved by the noise which celebrated the commencement of
the Ramadan. From the vast number of Seyids or descendants of the
Prophet, who, with their green turbans ostentatiously displayed,
perambulated the streets of Ladik, I was led to conclude that the
innovations of reform had not yet reached this quiet nook of the
ancient Pontus. The abundance of Seyids seems to indicate, like the
multitude of friars in some Roman Catholic countries, that the
established religion is flourishing in full vigor. The emblems of
relationship to the Prophet of Mecca are more charily displayed where
his system has already lost or is losing its sway over the public mind.

The noise and shouting which generally precede the
commencement of
Ramadan in most Turkish towns may seem a curious forerunner of a fast
so rigorously observed, but, during this penitential season, the night
is consecrated to feasting and rejoicing, while, during the day, the
most rigid mortification prevails. Every night of this month of
abasement presents the same singular contrast of boisterous mirth with
mortification that the carnival does, in Roman Catholic countries, with
the penitential rigors of Lent. As soon as the shouting in the streets
had died away, a tribe of howling dervishes in an' adjacent mosque took
upon, themselves to continue the -reign of noise, and they supported it
manfully till near midnight, when I fell asleep in the midst of the
din.

The next morning, most of the faces we met presented
the wan and
lugubrious appearance of men who had been making merry over night. They
scowled at as we rode along, for to encounter a Christian at the time
of a solemn fast or festival is as unwelcome to a Turk as the flesh of
the unclean beast. Even in Constantinople it is only lately that
Christians deemed it prudent to venture abroad during these seasons of
rampant bigotry and fanaticism.

On leaving Ladik, we continued our route over the
hills for some
time, till we met two men armed in a very irregular manner, who began
to regale us with the tidings that a large band of robbers was abroad,
in consequence of which they had been placed there by government to
escort travelers as far as the limits of the plain of Amasia. Their
protection, however, was not likely to prove very efficient in case of
attack, as one of their muskets wanted a lock, and the other, from its
rusty appearance, seemed likely to do its owner more injury than any
one else. Still, we deemed it advisable to accept of them as a guard,
'not knowing whether, in case of refusal, they might not have thought
fit to bring the robbers upon us. It is generally believed that the
authorities in these parts have a secret understanding with the
banditti, and give them intimation of the movements of travelers. In
case they are not to attack the person or caravan, one or more
individuals known to the robbers accompany him or it, and thus
guarantee a safe passage. A similar practice exists among the Bedouins
in some parts. It was not unlikely, therefore, that our guides might be
themselves members of, or connected with, the band of depredators from
whom they were deputed to guard us. At all events, if there had not
been some mutual good understanding, their number and their arms were
ill qualified to afford us any solid protection.

While on this subject, I may remark that most of
these banditti have
been driven to a course of violence and crime by the grinding tyranny
of the government. The heavy taxation, and the vexatious measures
resorted to for its exaction, will often, in a few days, make desolate
a whole village, and compel its inhabitants to take refuge in the
neighboring woods and mountains.

The peasant quits the mud cottage of his fathers
with his wife and
children, procures either by craft or plunder some weapons, and,
preserving a tacit good understanding with his fellow-villagers who
remain behind, he employs them as spies on the movements of travelers.
For a time he pursues a hazardous and wandering life, till he has
either secured enough booty to be able to make his peace with the
pasha, or has rendered himself too obnoxious to be forgiven. In the
latter case, he is often hunted by the savage Albanian irregulars to
his mountain lair, where he meets death resolutely with arms in his
hands, or is overpowered and taken alive, to be reserved for the most
exquisite and refined tortures. Writhing in agony on the stake, he not
unfrequently maintains his courage unbroken to the last, and, maddened
by torture and despair, he invokes with his last breath the curses of
Heaven on the head of his oppressor: I have often, in the course of a
day's ride, encountered several of these deserted villages abandoned by
the whole of their unfortunate inhabitants, who had chosen rather to
brave the perils and hardships of a robber's life than submit to the
grinding tyranny of their governors.

On leaving the hilly region, we entered a
widely-extended plain,
bearing the signs of cultivation and abundant fertility. It is watered
by the river called anciently the Iris, and is bounded on all sides by
mountain ranges. At the further extremity, near the foot of a chain of
lofty eminences which overhang the town, stands the city of Amasia,
noted in history as having been the birthplace of Mithridates and
Strabo. As the traveler makes a slight circuit, he passes by some low
rocks, in which are cut several sepulchral chambers. A lofty eminence,
crowned with the ruins of an ancient castle, rises abruptly in the
vicinity of the town. The city is built on the two banks of the Iris,
which are connected by bridges constructed. for the most part from the
relics of the ancient city. Large and luxuriant plantations surround
the town, irrigated by numerous water-mills, which are situated on the
banks of the river. The gilded dome and minarets of the principal
mosque attract the attention, on entering the city, by the taste and
splendor of their decorations; but the main body of the building
differs so little from the ordinary style of mosques that it scarcely
merits particular notice.

The governor had quartered us in a house connected
with the Armenian
church, in the lower part of which was a boy's school. Presently, the
schoolmaster himself came to pay us a visit. He said that the boys were
instructed to read and write Armenian and Turkish. Their books had been
supplied by the American Presbyterian missionaries at. Constantinople,
whom, like many other Orientals, he confounded with the English, and
supposed them to be representatives of the Church of England. I found
on inquiry that the Bible was nearly the only book used in Armenian
schools. Most of the Eastern Christian children learn to read from it,
as the Oriental churches have not the same prejudices which are
entertained by the Romanists against the indiscriminate use of the
Scriptures by the laity.

Few boys at school learn more than the elements of
reading and
writing. As soon as they can read correctly, and write intelligibly,
they begin to assist their parents in their trade or commerce. Those
who have a turn for literature study the liturgies and legends of their
church, which are generally written in ancient Armenian, a dialect
bearing the same relation to the modern tongue as the phraseology of
Chaucer to the English spoken at the present day. The Easterns are not,
as a people, partial to science or literature. Theology is their great
forte, and to this they consider all other branches of knowledge
subordinate. I am very much of their opinion.

In the evening, M. Krug, a Swiss mercantile agent,
and the only
European in the town, called upon us. He was engaged in the collection
and exportation of leeches, of which great numbers are to be found in
the small streams, which branch off from the Iris, as well as in that
river itself.. With M. Krug came a young Armenian merchant, who was
engaged in the silk trade, a branch of commerce for which Amasia is
famous.

We left Amasia early in the morning, and rode for
about three miles
over an uncultivated and undulating tract of country. At this distance
from the town, stands a ruined edifice, built over a spring of water,
which is said to have been produced by the touch of the body of St.
John Chrysostom, deposited on this spot by the bearers who were
conveying the corpse to Constantinople from its obscure sepulchre in
Comana, a small town of Pontus.

The road from the spring to the village of Ina
Bazaar was dull and
monotonous, surrounded on both sides by desolate tracts of waste land
covered with furze-bushes, and other wild productions of the desert.
The village consisted of a few mud huts, with a small mosque, and is
situated about eighteen miles to the south of Amasia.

From Ina Bazaar we proceeded to Turkal, a large
village, containing
about one thousand five hundred people, built on the banks of a small
rivulet. In the course of the day, we passed a durbend or temporary
barrack, erected for the use of the irregulars appointed by the pasha
to guard the roads. They were wretchedly clad, and as wretchedly armed.
Three or four of them were grouped round the fire roasting kabob. This
name is given to small pieces of meat, spitted together on a skewer and
roasted. The military cooks, being unprovided with proper skewers, used
their ramrods instead. They were kind enough to cook some for us, which
we enjoyed exceedingly, after our uninteresting and monotonous journey.

The mention of the ramrod reminds me of one of those
capricious acts
of brutal cruelty by which the Turkish governors have been, and still
are, disgraced. A pasha of some note had risen from the humble
situation of a cook to the high station of governor of a province. His
excellency was proverbial, after his elevation, for his nice culinary
judgment, as well as for his attachment to the pleasures of the table.
One day the kabob tasted but indifferently. The- pasha called the cook,
who, trembling and afraid, appeared meekly before the great man.

"Son of a burnt father," cried his excellency, in a
rage, "what have
you been doing to my kabob?"

The cook was all ignorance and innocence. The skewer
on which the
meat bad been dressed was produced, and appeared to have been slightly
charred by the operations of the preceding day.

"Do you make me eat cinders, O unclean?" indignantly
demanded the
irate epicure, and, drawing from his pistol the bright and polished
ramrod, he commanded that it should be made red hot, and thrust through
the tongue of the unfortunate cook. Happily for Turkey, instances of
this kind of wanton barbarity are becoming more rare; but we still hear
of acts of savage cruelty, perpetrated without shame and without
punishment in the districts removed from the surveillance of Europe,
and the capital.

From Turkal we had a long and tedious ride to the
city of Tocat.
This place is distant about sixty miles to the south of Amasia, and is
situated on the banks of the Iris. It is surrounded by gardens and
vineyards, and is famed for the flavor and abundance of its fruit.
Indeed, the Pashalic of Sivas may be considered as one of the most
naturally fertile tracts of Asiatic Turkey; but the tyranny and
oppression of man have done their utmost to check the bounty of nature,
and to prevent that bounty from being multiplied by cultivation. Were
the immense regions of untilled soil, now covered with farze and other
useless and unprofitable vegetation, subjected to the labors of an
enterprising, industrious, and free peasantry, the wild and the waste
would soon lose their desolate appearance, and display the pleasing
prospect of an extensive and well cultivated garden.

I may be mistaken in my judgment, but I have often
thought, while
wandering over the once fertile and productive regions of Asiatic
Turkey, that considerable benefit might accrue from their colonization
by emigrants from Europe. We send annually large bodies of our
countrymen to the antipodes, when a more salubrious climate and a more
fruitful soil might be allotted to them nearer home. In a land where
labor is cheap, and the necessaries of life easily procured, a colony
might at once commence their operations, with equal benefit to the
inhabitants and themselves. Protected by the agents of European
sovereigns from the capricious tyranny of the Turks, their intercourse
with the natives would tend, almost necessarily, to civilize and to
elevate them in the scale of humanity. The blessings of sound morality
and pure religion would be appreciated and felt by the Christians of
the East, and might be the means of raising from their present
degradation the once flourishing and widely extended Oriental churches.

The heat is trifling when compared with India and
Ceylon, where many
of our countrymen have established themselves as merchants and
planters. The objections of the Turkish government might be easily
overruled by the influence of European power, and one of the finest
portions of the globe, with its unfortunate inhabitants, rescued from
the barbarism which is annually tending to produce final desolation and
decay. Measures have already been taken, as far as I can understand,
for the colonization of Syria, and the same arguments which prove the
propriety and desirableness of such a step will apply with equal force
to the territory of which I am now writing.

At present the natives of this land, especially the
Christians, look
with hope and expectation to the West, and would gladly hail its
sovereigns as their deliverers from a system as cruet as it is blindly
destructive. The satraps of the Sultan, indifferent to everything but
the calls of personal avarice, blight the hopes and paralyze the
endeavors of individual enterprise, which often receives, as a reward
for its exertion, spoliation and torture, a painful prison, and a
dishonored grave.

THE Governor of Tocat had assigned us lodgings in
the Episcopal
house, or convent of the Papal Armenians. We were hospitably received
by two priests who bad been educated at the Propaganda College in Rome,
and spoke tolerable Italian. The bishop was absent, making one of his
official visitations, but we experienced no lack of welcome on this
account. We were struck by the air of neatness that distinguished both
the dress and the dwelling of our worthy hosts, and rendered their
habitation so very different from those of the generality of Oriental
Christians. It is certainly an undeniable fact that those members of
the Eastern churches who have admitted the supremacy of Rome are much
more remarkable, as a body, for cleanliness and intelligence, than
their independent brethren. I attribute this, mainly, to the frequent
visits paid by members of their priesthood and episcopate to Italy and
France, as well as to the effects of the education received by various
young men of their body in the college of the Propaganda. This
intercourse with Europe, limited as it is, (gives the papal Orientals a
great advantage over their co-religionists, who go on flourishing in
dirt and ignorance, unchecked and undisturbed by foreign monitions or
interference.

We found at Tocat an Austrian engineer, who was
establishing some
copper works, the material for which was furnished by the mines of
Arghana Maaden. Tocat is famed for its copper utensils, of which a
large exportation takes place yearly. An agent for leeches had also
taken up his residence in this town; he was an Austrian by birth, and
was connected with a company at Trieste, who had several employees in
various parts of Greece and Asia Minor.

The next day after our arrival, we repaired to visit
the Greek
church, which was under the custody of some nuns, of the order of St.
Basil; the priest having gone some distance into the country, to serve
another congregation. As the church was not in use, we asked permission
to read our morning prayers there, which was cheerfully granted. We
each took possession of a stall in the choir, and turning our faces to
the altar, B read, while I made the responses. A few Greeks, who had
been attracted to the spot by curiosity, and the novelty, in their
eyes, of an English service, remained during our prayers, and conducted
themselves with great reverence and decorum. We felt ourselves once
more among Christian brethren, no small consolation, when wandering in
a land where you are perpetually reminded of the predominance of Islam
over Christianity. An acolyte came forward before we began our prayers,
and lighted, with much ceremony, two large candles, about sixteen
inches in circumference, and nearly ten feet in height, that were
placed on two massive brass candlesticks, before the entrance to the
sanctuary.

After prayers, we adjourned to the neighboring
house, where the nuns
received us with great kindness. They were all advanced in years, but
wore no veils, nor did they exhibit any signs of shyness or reserve.
They talked fluently, and asked many questions relative to the English
Church and nation, of which they knew only that such a country existed.
They did not seem to prize very highly the celibacy they professed, for
they scolded me for remaining single; and asked the reason why I was
not married. They gave us some fruit and Rosolio, of which, however,
they did not partake themselves.

On leaving the Greek church, we proceeded to the
Armenian cemetery,
accompanied by an Armenian priest, whom he had encountered on the way.
He was the individual whohad performed the last rites of
Christian burial over the remains of the devoted missionary, Martyn,
who died here, on his way back to his native land, far from his
fellow-countrymen, surrounded by strangers, and exposed to the
brutality of his Tatar, who hurried him on without mercy, from stage to
stage. The poor Armenians, however, did what they could; they tended
his dying pillow, and they consigned his last relics to the (lust,
accompanied by the solemn, soothing rites of the Christian service.
Their simple veneration for him outlasted the tomb, and the hands of
the Christians of Tocat weed and tend the grave of the stranger from a
distant isle. The Armenian priest who accompanied us stood for some
moments with his turban off, at the head of the grave, engaged in
prayer. As we turned to go away, he remarked, "he was a martyr of Jesus
Christ; may his soul rest in peace!" A few wild flowers were growing by
the grave. I plucked one of them, and have regarded it ever since as
the memorial of a martyr's resting-place.

We left Tocat at about 8 A. M., and pursued our
journey over a rude
and mountainous district, abounding in rocky passes and defiles. At
certain distances, the traveler encounters rude barracks, situated by
the wayside, and termed durbends, where small bodies of irregular
troops are posted, to guard the roads from the depredations of the
Kurds and other plunderers. As we passed along, we noticed a few rude
stones fixed in the earth, marking out the graves of this wild and
wandering people, who, like the Bedouin Arabs, rove about the country
with their black tents, and spurn anything like a fixed or settled
habitation.

The snow began to fall thickly around us, as we
journeyed on, and
the roads through which we passed were fast assuming the hue of the
lofty mountain summits which surrounded us on every side. We were now
approaching the high table land in the vicinity of Sivas, and the cold
became more and more piercing, notwithstanding our thick capotes and
heavy boots.

We passed the' night at Ghir Khan, about
twenty-seven miles from
Tocat, a comparatively short distance, but it occupied nearly nine
hours, as we marched at caravan pace, which rarely exceeds three miles
an hour. On the morning, we started at half-past six A. M. for Sivas,
which we reached in about eight hours. As we drew near the town, the
cold increased in rigor, and some of our first purchases were several
pairs of thick woolen gloves, of which the inhabitants manufacture
large quantities.

Sivas, the ancient Sebaste, is situated at a small
distance from the
range of mountains-known in Europe by the name of
Anti-Taurus. The cold and chilling blasts from- their
summits render its winters almost as rigorous as those of France or
Germany. Snow and ice are by no means uncommon, and the nights, even in
summer, present a freezing contrast to the heat of the days.
Frequently, indeed, have I been reminded, while traveling in these
regions, of the seeming contradictory assertion of the patriarch, in
Genesis xxxi. 40: "In the day the drought consumed me, and the frost by
night."

The modern Sebaste is not celebrated for its
cleanliness, as it is
one of the most filthy towns I ever passed through: nor does it possess
any edifice worth noticing. Its only advantage seems to be a fine view
of the neighboring mountains, which range along to the north-east and
south-west of the city. Finding, therefore, little to interest us in
the place itself, we employed our leisure in arming ourselves for the
passage of the Taurus, on the ensuing day, with all kinds of woolen
defences against the cold.

At 8 A. M., we left Sivas, and began the gradual
ascent of the hills
we had been contemplating yesterday. As we advanced, the cold grew more
intense, but, being well fortified against it, I rather enjoyed its
bracing effects. Perhaps nothing could be more comfortable or even
luxurious than the thick and well-lined hood of the capote, which,
drawn over my head, and arranged something like a friar's cowl, enabled
me to bid defiance to the icy breeze. My legs were enveloped in long
woolen hose, which, although comfortable in the extreme, must have made
one resemble externally one of those straw-stuffed effigies of Guy
Fawkes which are, or rather were, the delight of London boys on the
fifth of November. A flask of cold rakee and water hangs at my
saddlebow, and the fumes of my chibouque are curling gracefully above
in the frosty air. I grow indifferent to the blast as it howls by, and
gird up my loins cheerfully, to encounter the rigors of the Taurus.

About seven miles from Sivas is a double passage in
the mountains,
which is known by the name of the Two Brothers. The two paths are
divided from each other by a ledge of rock which effectually prevents
the persons who choose the one from observing those who pass through
the other. The legend to which the appellation refers is, to the best
of my recollection, as follows:--

Once there dwelt at Constantinople a merchant of
great wealth, who
had an only brother, also engaged in commerce, at the same time, at
Baghdad. And it came to pass that they made a covenant with each other-
that, in order to keep alive their fraternal affection, they would
visit one another on alternate years at their several places of abode.
This practice they continued for a long time; and the khans of
Constantinople and Baghdad were loud in their praises of the love and
mutual tenderness of the two brothers. But it happened that a
tyrannical vizier occupied the chief seat on the divan at that time,
and he hated the Constantinople merchant for his probity, and he envied
him for his riches: so the result was that one day he threw -him into
prison, and would fain have strangled or beheaded him if he had not
been prevented. The aga of the Janizaries, however, had long been a
friend, and was originally a protege of the good merchant. He had seen
with indignation the arrest of his patron, and having sundry other
causes of complaint against the unjust vizier, he stirred up his troops
to demand the head of the unpopular minister.

While these measures were in progress, the
unfortunate merchant
remained in his prison, with the inevitable prospect of death before
his eyes. Calling to him one of his friends, he said, mournfully, "Oh,
my brother! God is great, from Him we come, and unto Him we return.
This unclean fellow of a vizier seeks my riches; and for the sake of
them will not hesitate to take my head. Praise be to God, I am not
unwilling to die, but there is one thing which disturbs me. It is now
the time for my brother's visit, and be will soon be leaving Baghdad.
Do thou, therefore, hasten to him, and acquaint him with what has
befallen me, that he may spare the journey, and not expose himself to
the peril of falling into the hands of the vizier."

When the merchant had said these words, his friend
wept sore-, and
promised, by the All-Merciful, that he would perform his request.

"Then," said the merchant, "go to my stables, and
take from thence
the fleetest of my Arab mares, and tarry neither day nor night until
thou reach Baghdad, the city of peace."

His friend answered, " There is no trust save in
God, the Merciful
and Gracious;" and -he took from the stables an Arab mare of great
price, and he hasted on his way, till, on the fourteenth day, he
discerned the minarets of Baghdad. Then he entered into the house of
the merchant's brother, and saluted him, and he told him the tidings of
which he was the bearer. The merchant's brother smote his face, and
rent his clothes; and he exclaimed, "Oh God, the, Merciful One!"
Moreover, he remained that day absorbed in grief. But it came to pass
that, on the morrow, he said, "If it please God, I will arise and go to
Constantinople; and it may be that I shall see my brother before Azrael
summons him away."

Then he made himself ready, and set forth, the
messenger also going
with him. But in the mean time the aga of the Janizaries had incited
his men to rebel, they attacked the palace, with loud cries, and the
vizier was delivered unto them, and they cut off his head; while, by
the interest of the aga, the merchant was appointed in his room. Then
the merchant remembered the message which he had sent to his brother;
and be besought the Sultan to suffer him to go to Baghdad to see and
comfort him, for he feared that the tidings would greatly have
distressed him. And the Sultan said unto him, "Go." So he took ten
slaves with him, and departed.

Now it happened that both the brothers arrived at
the opposite
entrances of the pass at the same time, but they each took a different
path, and thus missed each other; so the merchant of Constantinople
went on to Baghdad, and his brother to Constantinople, where he was
greatly overjoyed to hear what had occurred, and determined on
returning to meet his brother half-way. But, as he was obliged to
perform part of the journey by sea, he was delayed longer than he
expected, and he arrived at the pass just as his brother reached it;
but this time they tools the same road, and they met halfway and
embraced each other, and the Baghdad merchant accompanied his brother
to Constantinople, where he was loaded with wealth and honors, and died
at a good old age, leaving a numerous family to perpetuate his name,
and inherit his gains. Thus ends the legend of the Two Brothers, which,
although I cannot vouch for its authenticity, seems too romantic and
interesting not to find a place in these pages.

On leaving the pass, the road began to descend until
we reached a
level valley, occupying the intervening space between the high ground
which we had left, and another range of lofty mountains that rose
before us in majestic splendor, their towering crests covered with
snow. As we passed along, we observed a salt spring, from which great
quantities of that mineral were extracted during the summer season by
the process of evaporation. The valley we rode through was desolate and
void of cultivation, and it was with no small "gratification that I
found myself once more ascending towards the mountain region. Here
everything presented images of the most sublime character. The sun's
rays lit up the whole, and cast into strong relief the lofty peaks of
the mountain giants, each rearing his snowy crest resembling the plumed
casque of some ancient Titan, and exulting in his strength. Dark
ravines yawned at our side, and disclosed masses of vegetation at the
bottom of their profound abysses, while here and there- a rivulet fell
with gentle murmurs from rock to rock, and finally precipitated itself
with a loud roar into some basin, prepared by nature's hand to receive
it down below.

Our roads were filled with large fragments of rock,
which had from
time to time been detached from the surrounding mountains, and the
horses toiled slowly and painfully up the ascent. After a journey of
six hours, we reached Ulash, a small collection of huts, where we found
wretched accommodations.

From Ulash we pursued our route through a barren and
mountainous
region, now ascending and then again descending; now among the lofty
peaks and table-lands of the Taurus, and now crossing some valley which
looked the very picture of desolation. Our progress was slow, as we
wished to keep with our baggage, which could not follow very rapidly up
the steep and stony paths. Our night accommodations at the several
villages of Delikli Tash, Kaugul, and Alajah Khan, were miserable in
the extreme, and we were often obliged to share the mud room allotted
to us, with our baggage horses and mules. In the latter villages, we
found the dwellings almost subterranean, the lower part of each abode
resting some feet below the surface of the earth; others were mere
caves, hollowed in the side of a small mound or eminence. In these
semi-subterranean houses, the tops of which emerged like so many
ant-hills from the level of the ground, the unfortunate peasants
burrowed like moles, the light glimmering through a small aperture in
the roof.

The fourth day after our departure from Sivas, we
reached Hekim
Khan, a village composed of huts constructed on the principle which I
have before alluded to. One half of the villagers were Christians of
the Armenian church, and shortly after our arrival, we received a visit
from their priest, who had brought a few coins to dispose of. His dress
and general appearance betokened the most abject poverty, and he told
us a sad tale of the oppression under which his people groaned. Time
after time they had seen their little church plundered and desecrated
by the infidel, their wives dishonored, and their children carried away
captive into a distant land. Yet still they continued to linger among
the scenes endeared to them by the associations of childhood, and to
maintain faithfully and unflinchingly the creed of their fathers.

At our request; the poor priest led the way to his
little church.
Its exterior was as plain and unassuming as any of the mud cabins by
which it was surrounded. A descent of a few steps led to a door almost
below the surface of the street, under whose low portal we crept,
rather than Walked, into the church. The interior was almost as mean as
the wretched apartment we had just quitted. The walls were of mud, and
a close and earthly odor seemed struggling with the sweet savor of the
incense which had accompanied the celebration of the eucharist on the
previous day. Four rude pillars of pine, which age or polish had
rendered quite red, supported the mud roof, while a kind of cupboard
formed of deal boards constituted the altar. A pair of curtains of
dirty red cotton, begrimed with smoke and dirt, served in place of the
stone or wooden screen, which, in all Oriental churches, divides the
sanctuary from the choir. Above the altar was a painting of the Virgin
and child of no mean execution, which the ruthless spoliators had left
untouched. To the left was the portrait of a bishop, and to the right
that of a martyr of the Armenian church. In a recess at the side, were
two worm-eaten boxes, containing the tattered remains of the liturgies
and service books.

The poor Christians crowded. round us with interest
as we examined
their little church and its contents. In their simplicity, they begged
of us to represent their wretched state, and the oppressions which they
suffered, to the Queen of England, and to their brethren in our own
free and happy land. Poor people, they little knew that the dais of the
Crusaders had past, and that Christian princes, from" motives, of state
policy, had become the friends and allies of their persecutors.

The priest, like the rest of his flock, supported
himself by the
work of his hands. His condition, and the aspect of his simple church,
brought to my mind the recollection of primitive times, when the early
believers hid themselves and practiced their sacred rites in the caves
and dens of the earth, while their priests and even bishops labored
with their own hands, that they might not be chargeable to their poor
and oppressed flocks. The worthy man was almost overpowered with joy
when we poured into his rude and horny palm a sum which must have
seemed almost inexhaustible to him, in exchange for a few coins which
he had brought us for sale. He and others asked us for some Armenian
books, but we had none to give. An American missionary who had passed
that way a short time before our arrival had left some books and tracts
in vulgar Armenian for the use of the villagers, which had been
carefully laid by in the church chest.

At 4 A. M., we left Hekim Khan. After riding for
about an hour in
darkness, we came to a steep and almost perpendicular mountain,
resembling in shape the cone of a sugarloaf, to which is affixed the
title of the camel's back, because its summit has been assimilated to
the hump of that animal. The path was dangerous, or would have been to
any animal but a Turkish post horse; however, we got over it safely,
and soon descended into an extensive plain, called the Sultan's Pasture
Ground. It is said that Murad encamped here when on his way to besiege
Baghdad.5 We
still
continued gradually descending, until our road lay for some miles over
a narrow plain surrounded on all sides with hills, beyond which the
snow-capped summits of lofty mountains were discernible.

We passed the night in a mud hut, and arrived the
next day at Kabban
Maaden, where, for the first time, we saw the Euphrates, here a
comparatively narrow stream flowing between two opposite ranges of
rock. We had, during the two previous days, forded several of its
tributary streams, which are known by different appellations; but it
was with no small interest that we found ourselves on the banks of a
river so noted for its historical and scriptural associations. The
width of the Euphrates at Kabban Maaden scarcely equals that of the
Thames at Twickenham; its current was rapid, and its channel was said
to be much deeper here than it is nearer the sea.

Kabban Maaden is famous for its silver mines, the
working of which
is superintended by Europeans. About two hundred Greeks are employed in
the works, and those of them with whom we conversed seemed satisfied
with their employment and treatment. The silver ore is found to be
largely mixed with lead, from which it is separated in a furnace,
worked only at night by the Greeks.

Leaving Kabban Maaden, we proceeded to Pelte, about
twenty miles
distant from the former, a miserable collection of mud huts, inhabited
by most inhospitable Moslems, who would scarcely afford us the shelter
of a roof. However, our Tatar's influence was successful in procuring
us a place wherein to pass the night.

The next morning, we gladly quitted our churlish
hosts, and after
three hours' ride reached Mezraa, a town of some size, where we put tip
at the post house, a commodious and comfortable building, commanding a
good view of the road and of the town. Seated on our carpets, we
enjoyed the luxury of a bowl of Leben (sour milk), anal procured, for a
trifle, some delicious grapes, as they are produced in great abundance
by the vines surrounding the town. The heavy clusters which loaded our
leaden tray recalled to mind the grapes of Eshcol, which the spies
brought to the children of Israel as the first fruits of the Promised
Land.

As I was quietly inhaling my chibouque in the wooden
balcony outside
the chief apartment, the sound of drums and trumpets disturbed my
half-sleepy reverie,; and the Tatar came to announce that the Pasha of
Kharpoot, who had been newly appointed, and whose usual official
residence was at Mezraa, was now entering the town. I hurried to the
window commanding the best view of the cavalcade, which was as striking
and as gay as eastern pomp could make it. Horse-tail standards were
mingled with banners of green silk, inscribed with sentences from the
Koran; Kurdish chiefs, distinguished by their gaudy turbans and wide
pantaloons, decorated with gold or silver embroidery, mingled with the
troops of mounted officials, clad in the ungraceful uniform of Europe.
Spears glittered, spurs jingled, and the band of the pasha performed
military music with some correctness and skill.

The cadi and mufti were there to offer the homage
and recognition of
law and religion to the representative of the sovereign; and those who
did not know the truth might imagine that there was some sincerity in
the acclamations with which the new governor was welcomed. And yet
oppression had been at work to furnish all this splendor. Every town or
village through which the procession passed had been compelled to
supply provisions and forage gratis for the pasha and his hungry
followers, who doubtless exacted fourfold more than their instructions
bade them, and insulted and perhaps injured severely the poor peasants
whom they stripped of their all. And, as I thought on this, and more
than this, on wives and daughters torn away to languish in the harem of
a tyrant, or abandoned, perhaps, to glut the brutality of his
followers; as I pondered over old age, beaten and degraded, honesty
plundered of its lawful gains, and numberless victims driven forth from
their childhood's homes to wander, like outcasts, on the mountains,
till they terminated their career by a cruel and agonizing death, I
felt deep inward satisfaction, and heartfelt gratitude to the Almighty,
that I was not a Turkish pasha.

We had entered near Kabban Maaden, the Pachalic of
Diarbekir, which
occupies the northern extremity of the ancient land of Naharaim, the
Mesopotamia of the Greeks. It contains the cities of Diarbekir, and
Urfah, better known in history as Amida and Edessa. Continuing its
natural boundary towards the east, by the mountain chain, which
descends almost in a curve from Mardin to Sinjar, we may define, with
tolerable accuracy, the, general extent of the Roman dominion to the
eastward. Occasional enterprises, indeed, may have led the masters of
the Western world as far as the banks of the Tigris, and the regions
southward of Mosul; but their actual territory can hardly have extended
beyond the mountains of Singara. To the westward of these natural
fortifications they possessed cities of no inconsiderable strength and
size, and we read, almost with surprise, that the border town of
Nisibis was able to repel, in later times, three successive assaults
made by the whole force of the Persian monarchy, under one of its most
warlike sovereigns. With the loss of that city, and the infringements
of their natural frontier, began the decline of Roman power in the
extreme east, a decline which was consummated by the conquests of the
successors of Mohammed, aided, or at least conquests by the Christians
of the Nestorian and Jacobite communities, whose affections the Greeks
of the Lower Empire had persisted in alienating by a series of insults
and persecutions.

After leaving Kabban Maaden, we seem to have done
with the Greek
Church. Except at Diarbekir, where their numbers are few, the followers
of the imperial creed, called from that circumstance Melkites or King's
men, have left no traces of their rites in Mesopotamia. The Jacobites
and the Nestorians, with here or there a few Armenians, who are,
however, only sojourners, and not originally natives of the country,
seem to divide between them the land of the two rivers. The rough and
guttural tones of the Chaldee or Syrian ritual succeed to the polished
accents and winning melody of the Greek. Perhaps the same difference
may have been observable in ancient days. The Hellenic bore partial
sway at Amida and Nisibis: but it was not the idiom of the country.
Even St. Ephraim, though educated at Edessa, was little versed in
Greek. The natives of Mesopotamia maintained manfully their own
languages, and resisted the fascinations of that musical dialect which
had subdued by its charms other and remoter nations.

CHAPTER VII

Anti-Taurus. Argana Maaden. Armenian
house. Black tents of Bektash
Aga. Arrival of Osman Pasha. Chimbel ham. Diarbekir. A disappointment.
Deacons of the Syrian church. SS. Cosmas and Damianus. Reputed
miraculous oil. Progress of the Roman see in the East. French policy.
Syrian church and pictures.

WE had hitherto been wandering among the wild
scenery of the Taurus,
but we were to make our last essay of it on leaving Mezraa. From the
day that we left Sivas, mountains, and rocks had been our constant
companions; and our farewell of them was accompanied by circumstances
which tended to awaken our regret at parting. We left Mezraa before
daybreak, and were hardly clear of the town before we began ascending.
The lower ranges of rocky hills were soon passed; but at the foot of
the higher and steeper mountains, we paused for a quarter of an hour to
take breath and breakfast.

Refreshed by this halt, we recommenced our ascent;
and for some time
the dull and barren surface of the mountain side formed our only
prospect though it was somewhat enlivened by the faint gleams of light
which illumined the summit, and gave promise of coming day. But if our
toils in ascending had been fatiguing and disappointing, the view which
burst upon us as we gained the crest of the mountain was so magnificent
that it amply repaid all our past inconveniences. Imbedded as it were
in a circle of rocks, and surrounded, on every, side, by lofty peaks
covered with snow, was a lake of water, about a quarter of a mile in
length, whose still and placid surface seemed unagitated even by the
morning breeze. The sun was just rising, behind the lofty heights that
formed the background of the picture, throwing their pure white summits
into strong relief, by the effulgence with which his coming had
overspread the sky beyond them. As he mounted still higher in the
heavens, a gentle and reflected light seemed to play upon the lake, and
gradually develop the gentle rippling of its silvery waters, as they
felt the sway of the morning air. We all yielded ourselves to the
influence of the scene, and for some time remained stationary, gazing
at the beautiful lake, and the strange fantastic shapes of the rocks by
which it was surrounded.

As we pursued our route, the path became narrow and
dangerous. Our
horses' steps were but a few inches from the brink of the precipitous
gulf which opened at our side, forming, in its deep and secluded bosom,
a valley covered with vegetation, through the midst of which a mountain
stream was quietly gliding. We continued our journey for some hours
along the sides of lofty mountains surrounded by the most glorious
mountain scenery imaginable. The sides of the eminences were generally
bare, as great quantities of wood are annually collected for the use of
the mines at Argana Maaden, to which place we were looking somewhat
anxiously forward as the termination of our day's march.

We came upon it rather more suddenly than we
expected. Winding round
a mountain side, we turned a species of projection, and beheld before
us an extensive gorge, near the centre of which was the town of Argana
Maaden. It seemed almost buried by the hills that surrounded it, and
nothing could convey a more perfect image of seclusion from the world
than this collection of houses shut in on all sides by lofty mountains,
whose towering peaks appeared to bar even the light of heaven from
ingress. Our descent was slaw and tiresome, owing to the winding nature
of the path. With Argana Maaden in constant view we never seemed to
have advanced one step nearer; and when we flattered ourselves with the
hope that our conductor was about to take 'a direct coarse, we found
ourselves balked by some unexpected turn which led us still further
about.

But even circuitous roads must have an end, and we
were at length
comfortably housed in the comfortable habitation of an Armenian
merchant, connected with the mines. It seems strange enough for a
European to write thus coolly of a process of appropriation, which,
however customary in the East, is not exactly accordant with English
tastes. Imagine a stranger newly arrived in London quartered on Mr.
Rothschild, or Mr. Baring, usurping his best rooms, occupying his
choicest beds, and sending his servants into his cuisine to direct
culinary matters. Yet in Turkish travel, it is a thing of everyday
occurrence, and no Christian at least, however respectable for his
wealth and character, can relieve himself from the liability of having
his house invaded, and his domestic arrangements disturbed, by the
first traveling Frank who requires a lodging, and has influence enough
to secure one.

We are now occupying the state apartment of the
Armenian merchant's
house. It is a long narrow room lined-with divans, raised about a foot
from the floor, and amply furnished with soft cushions. Various silken
curtains conceal from view recesses fitted up with shelves, on which
are deposited mattresses stuffed with wool, sufficient in number to
accommodate twenty or thirty people. Our host sends us a smoking pillaw
from his own table, and treats us with a polite hospitality which, I am
sure, we have not deserved. I may be told that he is obliged to receive
us--granted, but his kind and courteous deportment was not part of the
bond. He might have been surly and ill-tempered, had he so chosen it.

The mines of Argana Maaden produce annually great
quantities of
copper, which is sent on to Tocat to undergo a refining and purifying
process. The mines are under the control of a company of native
merchants, who farm the revenues derived from them. A colony of Greeks
have been imported here, as they are considered the best workmen in
these parts. They are far superior to Armenians and Syrians in
intelligence; quickness, and ingenuity. The Armenian is a heavy animal,
and the Syrian is indolent, and by no means friendly to exertion. The
poor Kurds are the Gibeonites of the Argana Maaden community, and
supply them with fuel, for which they get poorly paid.

We left Argana Maaden at 6 A. M., and, four miles
distant from the
mines, we crossed a tributary stream of the Tigris, not far from its
source. That river takes its rise among the mountains which we had just
passed. Its sources are seven in number, which are all founded between
Argana Maaden and Mush, and unite themselves into one stream not far
from the city of Sert, in the eastern part of the Pashalic of
Diarbekir.

The descent of the Taurus was difficult and tedious,
and we arrived
at Argana, wearied and spiritless. The journey of a few miles had
occupied nearly four hours, and our quarters at the latter town were
not so comfortable as at the former; but I consoled myself with a
chibouque and the never-failing Eastern aphorism of Allah Kerim. There -is
something depressing in the transition from the wild and magnificent
scenery of the mountains to the dead level of a flat and uninteresting
plain, where you can see nothing before you for miles but the same
unchanging prospect. The grass around us had become completely parched
by the sun, whose rays descended on our heads with painful vehemence as
we rode along.

Two irregulars had been dispatched with us from
Argana Maaden, whose
equipments were, as usual, far from satisfactory. The firelock of one
was' interesting, doubtless, as a relic of antiquity, and would have
formed no mean figure in a museum; but its fighting days were clearly
over, and its venerable barrel was deeply encrusted with rust. The
other irregular carried an ancient scimitar suspended by a piece of
cord over his shoulder. The blade and point of his trusty weapon
protruded for several inches from the dilapidated scabbard, which
seemed to adhere to its companion with a tenacity that rendered
perfectly hopeless all ideas of separation. These valiant men-at-arms
resembled in their apparel that celebrated company with which Sir John
Falstaf declared so stoutly lie would not march through Coventry.
However, they guarded us in safety to the black tents of Bektash Aga.

We were received courteously at this Kurdish
encampment, which was
situated about midway between Argana and Diarbekir, on the vast-plain
bounded on the west by the Euphrates, and on the east by the branch of
the Tigris which we had forded on the preceding day.

A large tent was assigned us, divided by a slight
screen from the
habitation of several rather noisy fowls, who proved finally very
troublesome neighbors, as they contrived by some means or other to open
a communication with us, and we were rather disagreeably surprises! by
the entry of two or three members of the feathered family in the course
of the evening, who, in performing their evolutions round the tent,
generally contrived to extinguish our light.

The Kurds had kindled fires on the heath before
their tents, and
were busily engaged in preparing the evening meal, when an interruption
occurred of no very pleasant nature: Distant notes of warlike melody
came floating on the evening breeze, and soon the outlines of a body of
horsemen could be traced wending their way towards the encampment. The
chief, doubtless, thought of his anticipated dinner, and desponded. The
contents of the great caldron, that had been latterly simmering away
with such spirit in front of the great tent, must all go to the coming
aga and his hungry train. Nearer and nearer sound the horses' steps,
the moon breaks forth from behind a cloud, and discovers a gallant band
advancing with a portly figure at their head, whose uniform betokens
that he has held, or is still holding, the rank of a pasha. Presently
the whole encampment is in an uproar. The poor dinnerless Kurds fly
hither and thither to procure forage and refreshment for man and beast;
the aga himself, with low and reverential demeanor, holds the stirrup,
and assists the great man to dismount, and we learn, after the guests
have become somewhat settled in their new quarters, that the late
arrival is entitled Osman Pasha, and that he comes from Baghdad to
salute the Pasha of Kharpoot, whose triumphal entry into Mezraa we had
already witnessed.

On hearing that two Europeans had arrived at the
encampment, the
pasha condescended to invite us to dinner, an invitation which only my
companion accepted, as I had already eaten, and felt more disposed to
sleep: he returned in about two hours, well satisfied with his
entertainment; but his entrance woke me, and I was not destined again
to taste the sweets of slumber. The pasha and his attendants seemed
inclined to prolong their revelry, and the sounds of uproarious mirth
scared away sleep from my eyes; I lay tossing about on my mattress in
vain. At length, they broke out with a song, the burden of which, as
far as I can recollect, was "Chimbel bam, chimbel bam." It seemed very
comic, for shouts of laughter hailed each refrain, "Chimbel bam, chim
bel bam." I closed my ears in desperation, but the sound would creep
in; even when the singer was silent, and the noise gradually died away,
the echo of that strain rang in, my hearing still. As I dozed off in
uneasy slumbers, "Chimbel bam" seemed present with me. It appeared
almost to change from a sound to a form, and to bestride me like a
nightmare. I could not account for it then, I can hardly do so now; but
the first words 1 caught myself repeating on the morrow were Chimbel
bam."

The Kurds of Bektash Aga had formerly been robbers,
and their chief
had only lately sent in his adhesion to the government. Perhaps this
circumstance led him to treat his visitor from Baghdad with such marked
respect. He performed for him the offices of a menial, held his horse,
and served him at dinner with the assiduity of a humble dependent. A
few months may see a quarrel arise between the Pasha of Diarbekir and
his feudatories, Bektash Aga and his tribe will once more become
robbers, and woe betide Osman Pasha if he falls into their hands, they
will make hire bring sticks to boil their caldron, and that fine French
watch, which he displayed with so much ostentation before dinner, will
soon find its way into the custody of the Jews.

Osman Pasha and his train have taken their
departure, and we purpose
to pursue our journey in the opposite direction. The road lies through
a flat uncultivated plain, varied now and then by slight undulations.
Barrenness and desolation are around us, and we ride along, each with
his head enveloped in the cowl of his capote, till aroused by the
announcement that Diarbekir is in sight; we lift up our eyes, and
perceive a well-fortified town, with walls built of black stone, and
well garnished with formidable towers. This is the ancient Amida, or
Amid, called also Kara, or Black Amid, from the color of its walls. It
was one of the most opulent and populous of the Mesopotamian cities
during the time of Constantine and his successors, though it suffered
severely from the invasions of the Persians. Abulfeda characterizes it
as an ancient city of the province of Diarbekir, situated on the
western bank of the Tigris, abounding in trees and shrubs. Another
writer tells us that it is a splendid city, possessing a magnificent
citadel, and great store of provisions, surrounded by walls of immense
strength constructed of black stones, over which neither iron nor fire
has any power.

The appearance of the place from the outside seemed-
to
justify and support the descriptions which I have just quoted. The
compactness and solidity of the walls presented a striking contrast to
the mean and dilapidated fortifications of other towns that we had
passed, and the state of the towers and gates seemed to lead us to
expect that we should find the interior less squalid and filthy than
the interiors of Eastern cities usually are; but the anticipations we
had formed, as we contemplated the well-built walls and bulwarks, were
speedily dissipated, as we entered the narrow streets, and inhaled the
abominable odors which proceeded from them. Nearly half of the houses
were in ruins, the thoroughfares seemed deserted, and a few wretched,
half-naked outcasts were contending with each other for the possession
of a few melon rinds covered with filth, which a passer-by bad cast
carelessly away.

They scarcely heeded us as we rode past, and we
shuddered with
surprise and disgust, as we marked their gaunt feature's, bodies
attenuated by famine, and the wild looks in which the pain of physical
suffering was fearfully mingled with the semi-madness of despair.

We were assigned lodgings in the house of a Syrian
Catholic, and,
after a brief interval of rest and refreshment, we sallied forth to pay
a visit to a Syrian deacon, for whom my companion had received letters
from a bishop of that communion at Constantinople.

We found this gentleman seated in the court of his
house in company
with the ex-bishop of Kharpoot, Mar Georgios, who was then making a
short stay at Diarbekir. The bishop was a good-looking man, of middle
stature, clothed in the dark robes of his order, and possessing a
countenance less dignified than good-natured. The deacon was a man of
about forty years of age, clad in the usual costume of merchants and
tradesmen. As the wakeel, or agent of the patriarch, he possessed great
influence over the Jacobite Syrians of Diarbekir; the more so, perhaps,
because no bishop was appointed to it, it having been considered from
early times as part of the diocese of the patriarch himself.

The office of deacon in the Greek, Roman, and
English churches has
commonly been considered as an ecclesiastical grade preparatory to the
priesthood, and possessing the least possible amount of authority or
influence; those who hold it are generally persons who have devoted
themselves entirely to the ministerial office, and have totally
separated themselves from every secular pursuit. But the diaconate of
the Syrian Jacobites has assumed a widely different character, inasmuch
as its members are usually engaged in traffic, and possess a greater
amount of wealth and influence than the priests or bishops, their
ecclesiastical superiors. The number of deacons attached to each church
is very considerable, sometimes exceeding thirty; and it is difficult
to meet a respectable or well-educated Syrian who has not been
advanced, to this primary grade among the church's officers. Few
comparatively enter the priestly office, as their canons require, like
our own, a total renunciation of worldly pursuits. From the peculiar
character of, the Syrian diaconate, it generally follows that its
members are among the most able and respectable of their community.
Their connection with the church, induces them to study its theology
and its history, while their commerce obliges them to mix with the
world, to travel, and to observe, and thus generates habits of greater
activity, and opinions of more practical utility than those possessed
by their bishops and priests, who are drawn chiefly from the seclusion
and inexperience of the cloister to discharge their serious and
important duties.

Theology is the grand theme of Oriental discourse,
and both the
bishop and the deacon were anxious to understand the nature, rites, and
doctrines of the English Church. Like most of the Oriental Christians,
they seemed scarcely to be aware of our belief in the Gospel, and were
disposed to confound us with the American Presbyterians, whose
missionary had lately passed through the town. Of the doctrines of the
latter they had gathered a confused notion from the tracts which had at
various times been distributed, translated into Arabic and other
languages; but they seemed to view the dogmas of Calvinism with no
great favor.

At their request, we consented to take luncheon with
them on the
morrow, to meet some of the most wealthy and influential laymen of the
Syrian community; we then strolled through the town, which we found did
not improve upon acquaintance, and directed our footsteps to the Greek
church.

It was a small but not inelegant structure, circular
in form and
surmounted by a dome. The screen was furnished with the usual quota of
gaudy and ill-executed paintings, and the church was dirty and badly
ventilated. We found here the sepulchres of SS. Cosmas and Damianus,
whose names are well known to the ecclesiastical antiquary, from their
frequent recurrence in the earlier liturgies, and particularly in the
canon of the Roman mass.

They were, says the legend, two Christian brothers,
who lived in the
reign of the Emperor Diocletian. Educated in the strictest principles
of piety by their devout mother, Theodora, they were remarkable even at
an early age for their numerous acts of charity and benevolence. Taking
a literal view of the precepts of Christ, they disposed of all their
property and distributed the produce among the poor. That they might be
more useful, they studied medicine, that they might minister to the
afflictions of the sick and suffering. By persevering diligence they
acquired an almost superhuman knowledge of the art of healing, which
they used only for the benefit of their fellow-creatures, utterly
refusing all recompense for their skill. Their virtues attracted many
to Christianity, and marked them as a prey to its enemies. During the
persecution which Diocletian and Maximian excited against the church,
the two brethren were apprehended and dragged before the proconsul, who
offered to their choice the dreadful alternative of death or apostacy;
as may well be imagined, they cheerfully chose the former, and sentence
having been pronounced, they were beheaded in the presence of a vast
multitude, confirming, by the constancy with which they suffered, the
truth of that faith which the charity and devotion of their lives had
so nobly illustrated.

A marble slab covers the bodies of the saints,
bearing on its
surface a plain cross in bas-relief. There was a kind of aperture near
the edge of the tomb, through which it is said a miraculous oil oozes
forth on the festival of the saints. This oil, which is supposed to
issue from the bodies within, is highly esteemed as a remedy for all
kinds of sickness; it is collected in bottles, and disposed of to the
Greeks of the province, who have full faith in its virtue.

The priest told us that his congregation was now
reduced to ten or
twelve, as the great majority had joined the Greek Catholics, or
members of the Greek Church in communion with Rome; the seceders were
gaining ground every day, and had a bishop just appointed over them.

The progress which the Church of Rome is making, in
winning over the
members of the Oriental churches to acknowledge her supremacy, and to
submit to her jurisdiction, will affect different minds in various
ways. By the devout adherent of the See of Rome it will be regarded as
the triumph of truth over error and heresy; while those who deem the
pretensions of that see alike opposed to reason and Scripture will feel
sorrow that the long maintained independence of the Orientals is
slowly, but surely, yielding to usurpation. Yet, whatever effect it may
produce on his mind, no candid observer of the, course of events can,
for an instant, deny that the Roman interest is gaining rapidly in
these parts, and that, ere long, as far as human foresight can foretell
the future, the pontiff of the seven-billed city will add the
patriarchs and bishops of the East to the long list of his tributaries.

But there are circumstances mixed up with these
triumphs of Romanism
which may excite the attention of the statesman, as well as the
consideration of the divine. The See of Rome is not single-handed in
the conflict; she is aided and sustained by the political power of
France. Every French official is more or less, as far as a layman can
be, a missionary-of the Roman See. The missions are everywhere
considered as enjoying French protection. Do they embroil themselves
with the government? The French consul steps forward as their champion.
Are they engaged in litigation with a rival sect? French influence is
thrown into the scale. Nor is this line of conduct on the part of
France a novelty or accident; it dates from the days of Louis XIV., and
has been pursued with steadiness and consistency by monarchical,
imperial, consular, and republican governments. France directs the
Christians of the East, through the medium of the Roman missionaries,
and in the case of the downfall of the Turkish empire, she will find
warm and energetic partisans in those Christians of the East who have
yielded obedience to the supremacy of Rome.

Her only rival in the affections of the Orientals is
Russia, and
Russia meddles only with the Greeks. But the Greek clergy are ignorant,
and without influence, while the Propaganda is continually training,
and sending forth young Orientals, prepared by the advantages of a
European education to take the lead among their countrymen. By these
means the adherents of the papacy maintain a visible superiority over
the other Christians. The former are better dressed, they have more
intelligence, their churches and their houses are cleaner, and more
elegant. They are better protected from the violence and caprice of
the, government, for they have always the French consul to.
resort to. The sovereignty of Rome in the East seems indeed inevitable.

On the following day, according to promise, we
repaired to the house
of the Syrian deacon, Daood, where we found the bishop and the leading
men of the body assembled. Glasses of liqueur were handed round before
luncheon, and each guest drank five. or six, to sharpen the appetite.
The cloth was laid on the floor, and upon it was placed a small round
table of ebony, inlaid with ivory. We all surrounded it, and covered
our knees with the white cloth. The posture was most unpleasant to
those who had not been accustomed to sit cross-legged; but our Syrian
friends were, of course, quite at their ease. The lunch was a
substantial one, and comprised ragouts of various kinds, soup, pillaw,
and leben. The repast wound up with a supply of delicious fruit. I must
not omit to mention that the bishop pronounced a long grace in Syriac,
which was devoutly listened to, every one giving a hearty Amen, and
crossing themselves at the conclusion.

After we had finished our repast, we went to look at
the church. It
was a large building, very dirty, and abounding in tawdry decorations.
On each side of the great altar were two smaller ones, on one of which
the elements are placed before consecration. The other marks the place
where the priest is to robe himself for the service. There were no
seats, but the floor was covered with matting as in a mosque, on which
the congregation sat cross-legged, when not standing or kneeling. The
altar of the Syrians is a square table, either 'of wood or stone,
generally the latter, raised upon three steps. It is surmounted by a
cross, on each side of which is a candlestick, holding a short wax
candle, which is lighted only when the liturgy is recited. The
vestments of the priests resemble somewhat those of the Greek Church.
The Syrian clergy may marry while in deacons' orders, but not
afterwards.

We found several pictures in the church, but they
did not seem to
attract any veneration; and, as far as execution is concerned, were
certainly not deserving of it. One of these daubs represented the day
of judgment, and a more perfect burlesque of an awful and serious
subject could hardly be imagined. A very truculent-looking angel was
busily engaged, with a pair of balances, in weighing souls. A large pit
at the corner emitted flames and smoke, and received into its yawning
jaws a number of men and women, who were writhing under the agonies
inflicted by a number of three pronged tridents, wielded by black
figures with horns, hoofs, and tails, one of whom was bearing
a man in triumph, on the top of his fork. In another compartment of the
picture, the artists had portrayed seven infants, in a gloomy and
dismal kind of a place, which seemed to be a species of cavern and was
expounded to us as a representation of the state of unbaptized
children. Various portraits of saints embellished the walls, all
looking very grim, and void of expression, so that, upon the whole, we
could not compliment the Apelles of Diarbekir on his proficiency in
art.

We took a friendly leave of our Syrian friends, and
returned home to
prepare for the next day's journey. The governor was kind enough to
order the gates of the town to be opened at an early hour, and it was
nearly dark when we took our farewell look at Amida the black.

CHAPTER VIII

Kurdish village and people. Turkish
oppression. The skull. Syrian
bishop. The monastery of Zaphran. Library, and manuscripts. Armenian
banker. Nisibin and its traditions. Tomb of St. James. Jezirah.

SHORTLY after we had left the gates of Diarbekir, we
forded the
Tigris in two places, and pursued our route over stony hills, covered,
here and there, with patches of vegetation. Turkish now ceases to be
the vernacular of the towns and villages, but gives way to Arabic and
Kurdish. The latter, however, seems to predominate in the villages, as
they are chiefly inhabited by settlers from the neighboring mountains.
We arrived at one of these Kurdish villages about mid-day, but found
very sorry accommodation, as it had just been visited, and, of course,
plundered by the Albanians of the pasha. Most of the inhabitants had
taken to flight, and the others intended to follow their example, for
they frankly avowed that it was impossible to sustain any longer the
grinding tyranny of the Turkish officials.

The Kurdish character is one that has been
plentifully laden with
execration, and it must be avowed that their savage ferocity in war can
admit neither of excuse nor palliation. Yet I have seldom experienced
more cordial welcome, or more genuine hospitality, than I have received
at the hands of these half-civilized mountaineers. As a nation, they
possess a bold independence of character; and an entire freedom from
the low servility and its attendant vices which disgrace and degrade
the greater portion of the vassals of Turkish oppression. Divided into
clans or tribes, they submit cheerfully to the patriarchal authority of
the chieftain, an authority which seldom exceeds the limits of a just
and paternal rule; individual liberty is unfettered by the numerous
restrictions with which, under the Turkish regimen, the cruelty or
caprice of numberless petty tyrants has restrained the enterprise, and
blasted the industry, of their unfortunate Rayahs. Yet the mountains,
which nurse the rude independence of the mountaineer, are barren and
incapable of affording him, to any extent, the means of supporting his
freedom.

The desire of providing for his own wants, and for
those of his
family, drives him down to the more fertile and fruitful plains whose
rich soil and luxuriant harvests are marred by the tyranny of those who
rule over them. The unhappy wanderer finds to his cost that the mild
and genial temperature which forms so pleasing and so-marked
a contrast to the cold chilling blasts of his native mountains, is an
atmosphere of slavery, whose zephyrs fan not the limbs, and re fresh
not the toils of the free. Hardly have the unfortunate Kurd and his
companions completed the rude huts of their village colony, and sown
their little crop, when the stern exactions of a relentless pasha
apprise them that they must not expect to labor for themselves. The
harvest is plenteous, perhaps; but three parts of it, at least, find
their way into the garners of a governor whose grasping avarice is too
intent upon present gain to perceive that, by oppression, it is
destroying the source of future profit. The inhabitants of the village
murmur and pay, but, after several repetitions of the same conduct,
they begin to grow weary of a system which holds out no hope or
encouragement to honest industry. They become idle and disinclined to
labor, and sigh in the midst of oppression for the former independence
of their mountain home. The pasha's exactions increase as the means to
satisfy them fail, and the wretched cultivators find, at last, that
they have no alternative between a sudden flight and torture or insult
from the Albanian myrmidons of the pasha.

Sometimes, when the villagers are numerous, and
possess arms, they
resolutely set the tyrant at defiance, and break out into open
rebellion against his authority. Troops are sent against them, and, if
successful, they rarely leave many survivors in the rebellious
district. Men, women; and children are put to the sword
indiscriminately, and their ears, strung together on small cords, are
suspended at the principal gate of the chief city of the province, as a
warning to those who may feel disposed hereafter to question the
pasha's right of exaction, or to refuse submission to his legalized
robbery. Should the villagers, however, be fortunate enough to escape
before the ministers of vengeance can arrest their flight, they usually
betake themselves either to the mountains or to some deserted part of
the province, where they subsist, chiefly by plunder. Yet even in this
case, they are liable continually to be pursued and hunted down by the
Albanians, and they learn, by sad and fatal experience, that from
Turkish tyranny there is no sure and certain refuge but the grave.

The political quidnuncs of London and Paris may
extol the advancing
liberality of the Turkish government, its Hatti Sherifs, and very
lately manifested humane anxiety for the lives and liberties of its
subjects; but these fair-seeming professions are confined, as far as
regards their actual fruits, to the immediate vicinity of the capital.
The peasant of the interior is still pillaged, insulted, and oppressed
by governors, who regard a province solely as a source of individual
profit, and endeavor to lay up a sufficient store against the day of
dismissal or disgrace. The Porte still disposes of its employments, and
encourages the peculations of its agents, by the ruinous and unjust
demands which it makes upon them. The laws of the empire may be in
themselves reasonable and just, but what is law when the executive has
the power of superseding it by an act of arbitrary will? In every
Turkish province, the pasha is the law.

About three hours' journey from Mardin, we passed
the boundary of
the province of Diarbekir, and entered that of Mosul. Our road lay
through an uneven plain, at the termination of which rose abruptly the
eminence on whose southern brow the town of Mardin is situated. For
some miles before we arrived at the foot of the mountain, we could
discern the distant outline of the citadel; which crowned-the highest
visible summit. A chain of rocky hills wound off to the eastward, and
curving round in a southerly direction, bore down towards the desert of
Sinjar.

The city of Mardin is built on the sloping brow of a
mountain, which
is commonly considered as claiming some alliance with Mount Masius,
though the connection between them does not appear to be distinctly
defined. As the traveler crosses the summit of the eminence, and begins
to descend into the town, a prospect of boundless extent opens before
him. To the south and west he beholds a vast expanse of plains
terminated only by the horizon, and formed into a species of delta by
the rivers Euphrates and Khabur. Here Mesopotamia may be said truly to
commence, and its general features, as described by Xenophon, appear
even at this day strikingly correct.

The eye of the traveler seeks in vain for the green
forests and
agreeable shades of Northern Asia, such as he passed during the former
part of his journey by the banks of the limpid Iris. In their stead,
dwarf-bushes and the scanty foliage of the olive and palm will
occasionally relieve inadequately the general monotony of Mesopotamian
scenery. The dull, tame level of the plain eschews the bold and sublime
grandeurs of Pontus and Cappadocia, and the wayfarer feels, as he gazes
over the widely-extending flats, that he will speedily bid adieu for
some time to mountains. Yet the hand of Nature, which has denied the
more splendid and striking features of creation, has liberally bestowed
what, perhaps, is more in itself conducive to the happiness and comfort
of existence. The fertility and richness of the Mesopotamian plains
have, from early ages, been celebrated in history, and even at the
present day the blessings of an ever-teeming soil seem to compensate
for the violence and spoliation which is the lot of the husbandman. Yet
thousands of acres remain untended and uncultivated. The population
decreases annually, and the time may speedily be anticipated when the
miseries of Turkish rule will have reduced the once plentiful and
fruitful land of the two rivers into a barren and desolate wilderness,
as frightful and terrific in its desolation as that which surrounds the
last relics of proud and-haughty Babylon.

The citadel of Mardin is celebrated by Abulfeda as
one of the
strongest fortresses in Mesopotamia. He mentions a singular race of
serpents to be found near the summit of the mountain, which exceeded
all others in ferocity and venom. It was not, however, my ill fortune
to meet with any of them.

The town itself seemed to have a tolerable share of
ruined
habitations. As we ascended the narrow streets that led to our
appointed quarters, my horse stumbled over some round substance which
lay near a heap of rubbish on the ground. One of the servants touched
it with his stick. It was a human skull, and, with several others that
we perceived in different corners of the street, had served as a
football for the idle boys. These sad mementos of persecuted humanity
had been brought in some days before by the governor's troops, who had
been lately making a foray against some neighboring villages.

We were rescued from our uncomfortable quarters at
the post-house,
where we had been assigned lodgings, -by the hospitable
invitation sent us by Khowajeh Murad, the Armenian banker of the pasha.
This gentleman was polite enough to dispatch horses to convey us
through the town to his residence, which was situated in one of the
highest parts of the city, and commanded a fine view of the plains
below.

We had scarcely changed our traveling dresses and
performed our
ablutions, when a visitor was announced in the person of Bishop
Matthew, a Syrian Jacobite prelate, from the neighboring convent of
Zaphian. The reason of his visit was soon explained. B---- had sent on
in the morning some letters from a Syrian bishop with whom we had been
very intimate at Constantinople. Just as we were alighting, we
received, by way of reply, an invitation to the convent, worded,
however, in such a cold and apparently unfriendly manner, that we
judged it best not to accept it. Bishop Matthew had come, therefore, to
explain, and account for the seeming reserve of his community. The
patriarch, he said, was absent, and some members of their body looked
upon the English with dislike and suspicion. He hoped, however, that we
would not leave Mardin without visiting the monastery. He had himself
just returned from a tour among the Syrian villages near the Euphrates,
and had seen in one of them an illuminated MS. of the entire
Scriptures, in Syriac, of great antiquity, and much reverenced by the
people. It had been thrown into the Euphrates by the Turks, and had
been rescued with great difficulty. The bishop was anxious to purchase
it for the patriarch's library, but the villagers refused to part with
it at any price.

The bishop then entered at some length into a
description of the
present condition of his people. Some of them, he said, who had
traveled and conversed with the American missionaries, were desirous of
promoting a reformation in the usages and doctrines of the Syrian
community; these were opposed by those who formed the majority of the
body, and whose views were of a strictly conservative character. A
third party was considered as favoring the pretensions of Rome, though
as yet no actual separation had taken place between them and their
brethren. Bishop Matthew was himself disposed to forward the tendencies
of the reforming party, though he described their views as undefined,
and verging in some individuals towards ultra-liberalism. Of the second
class he spoke with much contempt, as of men who had neither reason nor
Scripture on their side, but were actuated solely by a blind reverence
for the practices of their fathers, and a superstitious fear of change.
He gave the Papal Syrians credit for activity, energy, and zeal, though
it was easy to see that he viewed their success with regret, and even
positive enmity. Having obtained from us a promise that we would visit
the monastery on the following day, he took his leave.

The next morning, we set forth from Mardin to pay
the promised
visit. We descended the mountain on which the city is built, and then
began to ascend the side of another eminence, after which we came to a
valley surrounded on almost every part with rocks. Leaving this
secluded spot, which would have served admirably for a hermitage, we
passed a mountain stream, and soon after arrived at the foot of an
isolated rocky hill, on the summit of which was the monastery,
resembling strongly in its external appearance rather the fort or
stronghold of a band of robbers than the abode of pious meditation and
peace. The vicinity of the Kurds, however, rendered it desirable that
due precautions should be taken, as these wild people, though ignorant
in the extreme, are bigoted fanatics, and apt to esteem the sacking of
a monastery, and the murder of Christian ecclesiastics, as 'actions of
supererogatory virtue.

The interior of the monastery seemed to promise
well, in the event
of a siege, and the ramparts were certainly stout enough to bid
defiance to the rude and ill managed artillery of the Kurds. The
various offices of the establishment, the chapel, and the habitations
of the monks, were grouped in a straggling way around a court of
extensive dimensions. In the chapel, which was dedicated to St.
Eugenius, we saw a kind. of case or tabernacle, bearing some verses
engraved upon it from the Gospel of St. Matthew, in the Estranglo
character; which was said to have been consecrated by St. Peter, at
Antioch, and from him was transmitted to the patriarchs of that city.
Near the altar we noticed the -fans, or screens of silver, which are
used by most of the Oriental churches during the celebration of the
eucharist; they are consigned to the deacon, who waves them to and fro
over the altar to drive away the flies and other insects, which, in
these warm climates, are likely to be attracted to the sacred elements.

From the chapel we proceeded to visit the library of
the monastery,,
which seemed to meet with little attention from the inmates. After
descending some stone stairs, a rusty bunch of keys was produced, and
with a little difficulty the door was opened, and the venerable tomes
appeared, some piled. up in a corner, and others scattered in careless
confusion about the floor. They were all manuscripts; but our monkish
friends could not, or would not, give us much information respecting
them. They said that the chronicles and some other of the works of Bar
Hebraeus were among their collection, and likewise several volumes of a
species of diary, in which it is customary for each patriarch to record
the principal events of his patriarchate.

We now ascended to the reception room of the
monastery, a long;
narrow apartment, fitted up with diwans, and having a species of
platform at the upper end, on which the patriarch and dignitaries of
the monastery usually sat. The tables were brought up, and, after the
customary preface of several glasses of rakee, we were regaled with a
substantial lunch, after which, pipes and coffee having been duly
discussed, we mounted our horses and returned to the house of our kind
host Murad.

Some of the principal Christians of the town had
assembled at the
board of our hospitable friend. We found, when we descended into the
drawing-room, that he bad procured for us a long table, furnished in
the European fashion, and his guests, in compliment doubtless to the
Frank strangers, omitted their usual custom of eating with their
fingers. Knives and forks were laid for each, and, though our
companions' mode of handling utensils so new to them might bare
provoked a smile, yet they succeeded, perhaps, much better than a party
of Europeans would have done, had they been deprived of the
long-accustomed implements of feeding, and required to confine
themselves to their fingers.

The conversation at table was strictly local. The
doings of the
governor, the last expedition of the Albanians, the state of the roads,
and the changes in the ecclesiastical departments of their several
churches, were the topics that engaged principally the attention of the
guests. To the recital of the wonders of Europe they listened with
surprise and suspicion. Railroads and balloons, though prosaic and
matter-of-fact to us, were to them as romantic and poetical as the
tales of the Thousand and One are in our eyes. They bestowed upon our
relations an equal share of attention and credence to that usually
accorded by the audience of a Turkish coffee house to the story of the
Wonderful Lamp.

On the morrow, we took our departure from Mardin,
and bade adieu,
with some regret, to our worthy friend and entertainer, Khowajeh Murad.
As we rode down the steep descent which leads from the town into the
plain, I could not help meditating on the precarious character of our
late host's position. The banker of a Turkish governor is an individual
who realizes; in his every-day life, what the old classic story relates
of Damocles. For a time, he revels in luxury and pleasure. A splendid
mansion, a magnificent stud are his. As long as the pasha's coffersare
full, all is well; but every consideration of meum and tuum must
disappear when his excellency wants money,.. The unfortunate banker
finds some morning, to his great dismay, that the debtor and creditor
sides of the account-book have, as it were by magic, changed places;
and that, instead of receiving a large sum from his, highness, he is
expected to pay it. If he is wise, he will bend his head to the storm,
and acquiesce in his loss with an expression of thankfulness that it
was not greater; but-if his confidence in the justice of his cause, and
unwillingness to submit to imposition get the better of his discretion,
he will probably soon exchange his luxurious mansion for a cold and
damp prison, from whence, after suffering all the agony and torture
that a tyrant's baffled cupidity can inflict, he will depart a ruined
and impoverished man, if death do not kindly forestall his deliverance
and liberate him at an earlier period from his torments.

Our route from Mardin to Nisibin lay over a flat,
uncultivated
plain, keeping to our left the range of rocky bills, known anciently by
the name of Mount Masius, near the foot of which was formerly situated
the ancient city of Nisibis. On arriving at its modern representative,
we found a miserable collection of mud huts grouped together on the
banks of the river Jakh Jakah, the ancient Mygdonius. The present
inhabitants of Nisibis number about three hundred families. Some ragged
tents were pitched near the huts, tenanted by wandering Arabs.

Less than a quarter of a mile from the village,
stands a monument of
ancient times, which we examined with great interest. Its architecture
is Grecian, but of the depraved style of the Lower Empire. It consists.
of two apartments, which are nearly filled with. rubbish and
ruins, so that we could hardly work our way to a staircase leading to
the subterranean cell, in which, entombed in a marble sarcophagus,
repose, it is said, the ashes of St. James of Nisibis. Near one of the
entrances into the building we found the following inscription, much
defaced:

The Mohammedans hold this building in great
veneration; as they do,
the tombs of all Christian saints who lived before the birth of
Mohammed; but the cause of their reverence for this particular building
was somewhat singular. One of the late pashas of the province erected
some large barracks Dear Nisibis, and determined to transform the
ruined mausoleum of St. James into a magazine for straw. The plans had
been drawn up, and the architect was prepared to commence his work on
the following day, when, early in the morning, he was summoned hastily
to the presence of the pasha, who charged him, on the strictest
penalties, to forbear from touching the building. The astonished
builder asked the reason of this change in his excellency's intentions,
and was informed that during the night he had been visited by
revelations of a most awful nature, in the course of which he was
strictly forbidden to meddle with the mausoleum. Shortly after, he made
an offer to the Syrian patriarch at Mardin to rebuild the church, and
make it fit for divine service at his own expense, if the patriarch
would send a colony of Syrians and a priest to Nisibin: while, however,
the negotiation was pending, the pasha was deposed, and the whole
project fell to the ground.

A former governor, it is said, presumed to stable a
favorite mare in
one of the apartments of the building, and the next morning she was
found dead without any assignable cause. These accounts were given us,
it must be observed, by Mohammedans, who knew nothing of St. James
beyond his name, and they were amply corroborated by the Christians.

What renders, perhaps, these legends the more
remarkable is the fact
that they refer to one who, during his lifetime, was connected with
some most singular and well-authenticated circumstances which occurred
during the siege of Nisibis by the Persians.6
The account of them is as follows:- In A. D. 350, Sapor, King of
Persia, one of the most warlike and successful monarchs of his day,
determined to invade the territories of the Romans, and, if possible,
to surprise the strong city of Nisibis, one of the most formidable
garrisons on the Roman frontier. He laid siege to it with a large army,
and the men of Nisibis gave themselves up for lost, for the Emperor
Constantius was then at Antioch, and many a long and weary march was
necessary before he could succor them, or even hear of their danger. At
that time, St. James was Bishop of Nisibis, and he exhorted the
citizens to defend themselves valiantly, promising them at the same
time the aid of his prayers. And night and day, as long as the
beleaguering host lay around the walls of Nisibis, might St. James have
been seen in the great church, interceding for the city and its
inhabitants.

The Persians made many attacks, which were bravely
repulsed; but at
last they succeeded in effecting a breach by the curious expedient of
collecting, by means of dams, a great body of water together, and then
letting it loose against the town. A vast torrent was thus precipitated
with impetuous fury against the walls, and laid a considerable portion
of them level with the ground. The Persians determined to march in the
next day, and passed the night in feasting and revelry. But in the
morning, as they were about to occupy the breach, a strange and novel
sight arrested their attention. A new wall had been hastily thrown up
by the inhabitants during the night, and on this stood a person of tall
stature, clad in robes of purple, and bearing a coronet on his head. .
He was surrounded by attendants, and seemed to be giving directions.
But so stern and fearful was his glance, as he gazed in wrath at the
Persian host, that the boldest soldier trembled as he looked upon him.

Then Sapor declared, "Verily, it is the Emperor of
the Romans that
path brought succor to the town." But his courtiers whispered together,
and they said at last, "O king, the Emperor Constantius is indeed at
Antioch, and the person whom thou seest is one more than mortal." Then
Sapor hurled his javelin in anger against the walls, and retired in
moody silence to his tent. And, as the Persian host withdrew themselves
from their posts, the Bishop St. James gazed down upon them from the
ramparts, and he pronounced the curse of the Lord upon them. A short
interval elapsed, when an immense swarm of flies appeared in the west.
They passed over the city, but attacked with fury the Persian camp,
stinging men, elephants, and horses, and scattering confusion and
dismay wherever they alighted. Terrified at what had happened, the
Persian king commanded the tents to be struck, and with great haste
recrossed the Tigris.

The name Nisibin, corrupted by Greek writers into
Nisibis, is
supposed to be the same as the Chaldean , which signifies
military stations or garrisons. Arabian geographers consider it as the
capital of the province of Diar Rabyah, and entitle the river on whose
bank it stands the Hirmas, or Hirmasius. The Macedonians, however,
called the latter stream Mygdonius, and changed the name of Nisibin to
Antiochia Mygdonia. In the time of Abulfeda, it seems to have been a
town of some magnitude. He depicts it as surrounded with gardens, in
which only white roses could be grown, and as producing a species of
scorpion whose sting was followed by instantaneous death.

To the south of Nisibis extend the desert regions
known by the name
of Sinjar, the Singara of the Romans. The range called Mount Masius has
probably some connection with the hills of Sinjar, which are inhabited
chiefly by Yezidees. The traveler to Mosul has here the choice of two
routes. That by Jezirah is the longest, but supplies more plentiful
accommodations and provisions, while the road by the desert occupies
less time, but presents no convenient halting-place, and is infested
with banditti. We therefore judged it advisable, as we had laid in no
supplies, to journey by way of Jezirah. Accordingly, we skirted the
northern extremity of the desert of Sinjar, traveling through a rocky
and barren country, having to the south the mountains called Jebel Tor,
which are chiefly inhabited by Syrian Jacobites. We passed several
villages, but encountered nothing of interest till the next day, when
we came in sight of Jebel Judi, which rises abruptly from the eastern
bank of the Tigris, and almost overlooks the town of Jezirah.

We arrived at the latter place in the afternoon, two
days after
leaving Nisibis, and were not a little disappointed to findthat
there were scarcely twenty tenantable habitations in the whole town.
With much trouble, the Tatar succeeded in gaining us lodgings in the
house of two Kurdish females, who screamed and cursed the infidels most
fluently, when they were informed that we were to be billeted on them.
To add to my troubles, B-, who had been ailing ever since we left
Nisibis, fairly gave in at Jezirah, and the only room that could be got
for him was a kind of dilapidated shed exposed on all sides to the
chilling breezes, which, as the winter season was coming on, blew harsh
and biting from the neighboring mountains. Fortunately, however, we
possessed a medicine chest, and a female professor of the healing art
in the town, by religion a Chaldean Christian, having heard that a sick
Englishman had arrived, came and tendered her services.

The good lady had, it seems, a considerable and
lucrative practice
among both Mohammedans and Christians, and was considered very skillful
in her mode of treatment. She looked at B---- with great attention,
felt his pulse, inspected his tongue, and went through the usual
evolutions of her profession, after which she recommended bleeding; B
followed her advice, and the next day was much better.

Leaving him asleep, I rambled out on the banks of
the Tigris, which
here flows with its wonted rapidity. On the opposite side, were the
tall and commanding heights of Jebel Judi, along which the gallant ten
thousand had fought their way in, days of yore. To the westward of the
river, a barren and rocky plain extended itself as far as the eye could
see. The water of the river seemed muddy and disturbed, being in color
a kind of dirty red. I drank some of 'it, but did not detect any
evidence of its superior qualities, so touch vaunted by the dwellers in
these regions. I learnt afterwards, at Mosul, that it should be kept
standing for some time in pitchers, before it was used, in order to
allow the sediment to sink to the bottom.

THE region to which the name of Kurdistan has been
generally
assigned comprises the narrow tract of mountainous country which
separates Persia from Turkey. The long ranges of rocky eminences are
divided from each other by fertile valleys, where the numerous flocks
find pasture during the warm and temperate seasons of the year. Yet the
general character of the inhospitable soil has forced the hardy
inhabitants of these mountains to migrate to the plains, sometimes as
peaceful cultivators, but not unfrequently as marauders, like the
ancient Highlanders of Scotland. Their hardy valor, no less than their
savage ferocity, has made the name of Kurd terrible throughout the
East; and the rugged mountains of ancient Assyria may boast of having
sent forth one of the greatest of Eastern conquerors, the celebrated
Salaheddin, better known, perhaps, under his Latinized appellation of
Saladdin.

The Arabian philologists tell us that the Kurds are
of Persian
origin, and were expelled from Iran during the reign of the tyrannical
Zohauk. They assert that the exiles derive their name of Kurd from the
root , he drove forth or persecuted, from which the
Greek geographers and historians formed their Carduchia and Carduchi.
It is probable that the national name of Kord or Gord is very ancient,
as we find traces of it not only in the appellation given by Xenophon
to the inhabitants of the mountains, but also in the title assigned by
early writers to the mountains themselves. Berosus speaks of them as -- which the Latin authors render Montes Gordyaeorum,7 a name bearing a
strong
affinity to the word , Kord or Gord, as the sounds K and
G are frequently interchanged in Semetic languages.

My object in dwelling thus upon an etymology, which
to some may seem
to involve inferences of but little consequence, will appear when I
come to analyze the ancient opinion that the ark of Noah rested, after
the deluge, upon the mountains of Armenia. For several reasons, I
consider the common notion that the Ararat of modern Armenia is the
place indicated by Scripture, as founded on error, and as incompatible
with the narrative of what followed the deliverance of the second
founder of the human race.

One glance at the map of Asia will show the extreme
improbability
that the descendants of Noah should have journeyed in the direction of
Babylon, over the rude and rugged mountains which intervene between
Ararat and the Assyrian plains. Their route would rather have been
towards the fertile country of Persia; and Iran, and not Shinar, would
have been recorded as the first colony of the human race.

Nor is the opinion which assigns the Ararat of
Armenia as the
resting-place of the ark at all supported either by the literal
interpretation of Scripture, or by the testimony of accredited writers.
The term Ararat is used in Hebrew to signify the mountainous country to
the north and east of Assyria. In 2 Kings xix. 37, and Isaiah xxxvii.
38, we are told that the sons of Sennacherib, having assassinated their
father, fled for refuge into the land of Ararat, or Armenia, as our
translators render it, following the rendering of the Septuagint and
Vulgate. Can it be supposed, then, that the fugitives would traverse
the mountains of Kurdistan, as far as the modern peak of Ararat, or
that men, bred up in the luxury and effeminacy of the Assyrian court,
would advance one step further in a barbarous, and almost inaccessible
region, than was absolutely needful for their safety? We are compelled,
therefore, to allow that the term Ararat must be taken as indicating
the mountainous country in the vicinity of Nineveh, the same, in fact,
which is known at the present clay by the name of Jebel Giodi, or Judi,
an evident corruption of the ancient Gordi.8

This supposition derives much additional weight from
the authority
of the Targumist Jonathan, who, in his gloss upon Genesis viii. 4,
makes the ark to rest, al toorai d'Kardon, upon the
mountains of Kurdon or Gordon, thus almost establishing the identity of
the modern Godi or Judi with the resting-place of the ark. With him
agree most of the profane writers who have mentioned the deluge, a list
of whom will be found in Bochart's Geographia Sacra, Cap. III. To
these, I may add the modern tradition, still current among the
Mohammedans and Christians of Assyria, that Jebel Judi received the
survivors of the deluge. Another remarkable coincidence is the aptitude
of the soil in the valleys of the Judi range for the rearing of the
vine. The grape is still much cultivated among the Nestorians, and I
regret to say that they frequently abuse the bounty of Providence in
the same manner that Noah is recorded to have done.

Most interpreters have restricted the plain of
Shinar to the
immediate vicinity of Babylon. Yet it seems probable that this
appellation embraced the whole of the plain country, from the Judi
range to the city of Baghdad, including both shores of the Tigris,
bounded to the east by the mountains of Kurdistan, and to the west by
the mountains of Sinjar sand the confines of Arabia. Nor does she
conjecture seem improbable that the name Shinar or Sinar, which, in
Semetic languages, is written with an , ain, should have
been
changed during the lapse of years into Singar--or Sinjar, more
especially as there are instances on record where this change has been
effected.9

From Jezirah we proceeded by slow journeys to Zakko,
and from thence
to Mosul, where we crossed the bridge of boats, and were soon resting
from our labors under the hospitable roof of Mr. Rassam, the English
vice-consul, whose name and merits are so well known to the majority of
travelers.

My poor friend B---- still continued seriously ill,
but the medical
art in Mosul had fallen to -a very low ebb, and the only Esculapius we
could procure was the physician of the pasha, an Armenian, who had
studied in Italy. His knowledge, however, was, by no means equal to his
goodwill, and B---- was obliged to ring his own medical science to bear
upon his own case; at length, after a hard struggle, he was pronounced
convalescent, and was able to commence the duties of his mission.

The town of Mosul is situated on the western bank of
the about three
hundred miles to the north of Baghdad; behind it, to the westward,
extend the plains of Sinjar, in front of the river, and on the opposite
side the mounds, commonly called Kuyunjik, which have hitherto been
supposed to be the only remains of ancient Nineveh. A little to the
south of these is a village, situated on the top of a low hill, called
Nebbi Yunas, or the Prophet Jonah, from a tradition, long current in
these parts, that Jonah died and was buried there.

Following the course of the road which divides
Kuyunjik from the
village, the traveler arrives, after a journey of fifteen miles, at a
group of rocky hills entitled Jebel Makloub, occupying an isolated
position in the midst of a large plain, which extends from the banks of
the Tigris to the Judi range.10
Behind these, and on either' side of them, appear the mountains of
Kurdistan, the highest of which are covered with snow during six months
of the year, and may be plainly seen from the terraces of Mosul.

The houses of this modern Nineveh' are built of
stone, and profusely
ornamented with a kind of marble found in the vicinity. Externally,
they present little that is pleasing or attractive. As you proceed
through the streets, the eye wanders along a connected series of dead
walls, which give the city an air of desolation and decay. Few of the
houses are in a perfect state, and it is not uncommon to perceive a
heap of ruins in the court of a spacious and handsome mansion; the
interiors are arranged in the usual Oriental fashion, the apartments
being built round a square or oblong court; they have rarely any
connection with each other. On one side of this court is a large arched
recess, called the aiwan, the point of which is only three or four feet
below the terraced roof. Within the aiwan are arranged sofas, for the
accommodation of visitors and of the family during the hot season, when
it is considered unhealthy to remain in the rooms. Most of the houses
possess a suite of subterranean apartments, called serdab, where the
wealthier people retire during the three hot months of the year; these
lower rooms are generally handsomely decorated with marble, while, in
the midst, a bubbling fountain diffuses coolness and refreshment
throughout the heated and oppressive atmosphere.

The roofs of the houses are perfectly flat, with low
balustrades;
they prove an agreeable walk in the cool of the evening, and are
peculiarly favorable to meditation. Frequently have I enjoyed a
solitary promenade on my terrace, my eye fixed on the mounds of Nineveh
and the snow-capped mountains of Kurdistan, and my thoughts, perhaps,
far away. Thus we read in ancient days of an apostle going up to the
house-top to pray; a strange circumstance in European eyes, but
perfectly natural to an Oriental. For my own part, when I wished to be
particularly solitary, I always repaired to the roof, and felt myself
perfectly cut off from the world below.

The terrace is to the Eastern, in fact, what the
study is to the
English gentleman, a sort of sanctum into which no one intrudes without
special leave. When I was in the court or the aiwan, even strangers
would come in without scruple, seat themselves, and enter unreservedly
into conversation; but if they were told I was above, they either went
away, or desired my servant to announce them. I near remember a single
instance in which any other than a very intimate friend ever mounted
the stairs. On one occasion, I had a number of Nestorians residing in
my house, who were remarkably fond of strolling about the terraces when
I was not there, but when I made my appearance above, they always
withdrew, lest they should seem to intrude upon my privacy.

For, about eight months in the year the weather at
Mosul is
temperate, though the cold in winter, particularly towards night, is
sometimes intense. On these occasions, the houses are generally warmed
by wood fires where there is a chimney to the apartment, which is not
always the case. In the latter instance, the fire is kindled in a small
round brazen vessel, with two rings attached to the sides to facilitate
its conveyance from one room to the other; the warmth thus obtained;
is, however, very inconsiderable. During the months of May, June, July,
and August, the heat is most intense and intolerable; I could scarcely
bear the thin drawers and silken shirt which formed my only clothing
within doors while the hot weather lasted. It was indeed a luxury to
throw off the tight pantaloons, stiff cravats, and coats of civilized
Europe, and give the limbs their full freedom in the loose and flowing
garments of the East; yet a strange and unaccountable prejudice seems
to have induced the great majority of European residents to maintain
their uncomfortable and undignified costume, and the traveler who
should dare to be so singular as to prefer comfort and common sense to
the scruples and whims of his countrymen would be treated with
ridicule, if not with contempt. It is urged, indeed, that there is more
respect paid to the Frank costume since its introduction as an official
garb by the late sultan, and this, doubtless, is the reason why every
man who can boast, even indirectly, of European descent, delights to
make himself as frightful and uncomfortable as possible; but, if the
matter were rightly examined, it might be found that the estimation so
much coveted, if it really exists, is shown to the arts and arms of
Frangistan, and not to her costume.

It is most refreshing, during the burning heats of
July, to walk
with bare feet on the marble pavement of the room, or on the flags of
the court. Even the fastidious sons and daughters of Europe agree
during this period to eschew the use of stockings, and sometimes of
shoes. One great drawback, however, to this pleasure is the abundance
of scorpions and centipedes during the hot weather; you put your hand
to the latch of your door, and a black and dangerous scorpion creeps
out of the keyhole to exact vengeance for his disturbed peace and
comfort. As you lie on your sofa, and stretch forth your fingers to
grasp the beads, which are a constant appendage to every resident in
the East, your hand falls upon a most unprepossessing-looking
centipede, who has been quietly contemplating you for the last half
hour.

One evening I was seated barefoot in the middle of
the court, and
had just called for a- chibouque, regardless of a black
round mass that lay near one of my feet; the servant came with the pipe
in his hand, uttered an exclamation, and, hastily withdrawing his
slipper, he inflicted two or three vigorous blows on the ground;
astonished at the action, I looked in the direction of his attack, and
beheld the crushed and battered form of a black scorpion, about five
inches long. This incident made me more careful of going barefoot ever
after.

After a short stay at the consulate, I hired a house
in the
neighborhood for nine pounds a year. It contained six rooms, a kitchen,
and a court, where the sun never penetrated, even during the hottest
season of the year. I also engaged a servant, a papal Chaldean by
religion, who was a native of one of the neighboring villages. He spoke
only Arabic, Chaldee, and Kurdish, and I trusted by his aid, and that
of necessity, soon to master the former. A day or two after his
engagement, Toma, for so he was called, desired my permission to spend
a few days among his friends, before entering upon his new duties as my
man of all work. As it was Christmas, I could not refuse him, and he
took his departure. But, being desirous to take possession of my new
quarters, I determined not to wait for him, but to install myself in
the house before his arrival. For this purpose, I demanded and obtained
the key, notwithstanding the remonstrances of my Mosulian friends, who
deemed the act of sleeping alone in an empty house an act of great
moral courage.

The key was not one of those convenient media of
obtaining an
entrance which may be carried commodiously in the waistcoat pocket; it
was a long bar of wood, with two projections towards the end, more than
a foot in length, and well qualified not only to open a door, but to
knock down any one who might attempt to enter it without permission.
Armed with this implement of offence and defence, I went to and fro
between my own dwelling and the consulate, generally taking my meals,
and spending my evenings at the latter.

During my servantless state, I received the
attentions and the
services of an old Chaldean, who was considered rather a character, and
who was one of the hangers on at the consulate. His figure was gaunt
and bony, but attenuated and bare; his dress was of the most scanty
description; and he resembled exceedingly the figure of Don Quixote,
divested of his arms and warlike accoutrements. But his politeness was
most exemplary, and even extra-Oriental. At almost every word, and
certainly between every sentence he uttered, there occurred the
constant repetition of the phrase, Ana Gholamuk, I am thy slave; from
which circumstance, he was never called by his baptismal name, but
always Ana Gholamuk, which appellation. had become so familiar to him
that I doubt whether he would have answered to any other. Poor Ana
Gholamuk, however, did not possess a virtue void of suspicion, for, on
one occasion, he was shrewdly suspected of having purloined sundry
articles from my friend B----, who was more than half inclined to have
him sent to prison in consequence. But as yet he was blameless, and as
far as regarded me, his honesty was unimpeachable, probably, because
there was nothing left in his way.

With the aid of this faithful retainer, who ever
after manifested a
particular affection to my kitchen, I managed to conduct my household
affairs until the arrival of my servant Toma, who made his appearance
two days behind time, with a long apology, and a present, both of which
I was graciously pleased to accept. I now commenced housekeeping in the
Oriental style, and rarely found my expenses exceed sixpence per diem.

The European society at Mosul was of course limited.
There were the
English vice consul Mr. Rassam, his wife an English lady, and her
mother, who had come to end her days so many miles away from old
England. Besides these, there were the American Presbyterian
missionaries, among whom was then numbered the late lamented Dr. Grant,
M. Botta the French consul, whose name is well known as the discoverer
of the antiquities of Khorsabad, ourselves, and an English merchant,
who had spent about four years in the country and did not know a
syllable of the language. I must not omit to mention the Italian
Dominican Friars, who superintended the affairs of the Papal Chaldean
Church; but they withheld themselves from society, and seemed
studiously to avoid the "English heretics."

I began, soon after my arrival, to apply myself to
the Arabic
language, in which I had no sooner made some proficiency, than I
determined to put my mettle to the proof, and make some excursions in
the vicinity. Toms was taken into consultation, and undertook to
provide the necessary articles. Post horses were hired as far as the
village of Bagh Sheikhs, and, as my own private wants were small, I
managed to be on horseback, and crossing the bridge of boats over the
Tigris, two days after my design had been formed.

Near the village of Nebbi Yunas is a well, entitled
Beerel-benat;
the Well of the Girls, respecting which there seems to be no tradition,
except that, in the opinion of the wise men of Mosul, it is subject to
nightly visits from the Djin. Toma was riding by my side, and had
commenced a narrative respecting his sickness while at Diarbekir, and
recovery by means of the intercession of St. George--who, he affirmed
positively, had appeared to him three times--when a man dressed in
white passed by, and seemed to eye us with no friendly countenance.
Toma gave his horse a kick, the creature reared, and he uttered a very
common phrase, "Yinnaal ish sheitan,"11
"May the devil (alluding to the horse) be cursed."

At the word "sheitan" the stranger scowled
fearfully, his hand
sought the hilt of his long dagger, and be overwhelmed Toma with a
volley of abuse in a kind of mixed jargon, which I did not understand;
the latter began to retaliate, but I bade him come on, and as we were
riding forward I asked him the reason of the stranger's anger. He
replied, 11 He is a dog of a Yezidee, (may his father be
cursed and his grave defiled!) and he cannot bear to hear the name of
Satan his master, may confusion fall upon him!"

"Are there any Yezidees in Bagh Sheikha?" I
demanded.

"There are many of them," he rejoined, "and not only
there, but in
all the villages of the plain, even to the foot of the Kurdish
mountains. Do I not know them and their doings, for am not I a son of
the villages?"

"What is their belief, and when do they worship?" I
inquired.

"Upon my head," was his answer, "they believe in the
devil and
worship him. That is known to everybody; but they have no priests, no
altars, and no sacrifice. Their chief church is at Sheikh Adi, and they
call those white buildings which you see yonder sacred places."

I looked in the direction indicated, and beheld a
number of small
cone-shaped edifices covered with white plaster, which I had at first
mistaken for tombs. Each of these temples was entered by an aperture
about four feet in height and wide enough to stiffer one person to
creep through at a time. I looked in, but perceived nothing except the
bare walls. Some of these buildings might have been large enough to
contain four persons at once, but scarcely more. Altogether, they
seemed more adapted to serve as memorials of some person or thing than
to act as places of worship.

We arrived soon after at the village of Bagh
Sheikha, prettily
situated at the foot of Jebel Makloub. Not far from it was a plantation
of olives, which, viewed from a distance, gave it the appearance of
being embosomed in trees. Our arrival excited no little commotion, and
the whole of the population who were at leisure, which happened to be
all the males, assembled in the market-place to stare at the strangers.
The poor women were obliged to be contented with looking at us as they
passed, bending under the weight of their numerous tasks. They seemed,
indeed, to be the only persons in the village who had anything to do.
Toma left me stationary, while he went on. with my papers to the Kiahya
of the place, a papal Syrian, in company with whom he speedily
returned.

Toma made his appearance in a great rage: he
stamped, shouted, and
bestowed on the head man all the uncomplimentary epithets, and they are
many, in the Arabic and Chaldaic vocabulary.

"What is the matter?" I inquired. "What has he
done?"

"Aish amal! what has he done, the unclean! why, he
has quartered thy
Revelation on a cursed Yezidee. But thou shalt punish his insolence;
for, verily, if thou writest to the pasha, he shall eat the stick
exceedingly. May his father--"

But here I interposed, being somewhat weary of
listening to
vociferation, and of remaining like an equestrian statue in the middle
of the square. I assumed a dignified air, and expressing in broken
Arabic my sorrow that Christians should have so little hospitality as
to refuse shelter to one of their own faith, I bade Toma lead the way
to the Yezidee's house. He obeyed, reluctantly.

"It is the best house in the place," remonstrated
the Kiahya,
submissively, as, completely crestfallen, he followed in the rear.

"I believe it, oh Kiahya," I replied; "for, bil
hock, truly, you
Syrians are a poor people; you have no money nor houses."

" I did not mean that," said the Kiahya.

" You are all dogs, you villagers, and may eat
dirt," growled Toma.

And with this polite speech we arrived at the door
of the Yezidee.

It had a clean and neat exterior, very different
from the dirty huts
that surrounded it; and the air of the owner, who had stepped out to
welcome us, very much prepossessed me in his favor. His look was
melancholy, but not servile, and he addressed himself to the cringing
Kiahya with the appearance of one who was conscious of belonging to a
despised and persecuted race, yet had preserved his self-respect and
independence of character unaltered by the conviction.

He looked doubtfully at me for a few minutes, and
then inquired of
Toma whether I was a Christian.

"Christian!" exclaimed Toma, "Christian! To be sure
he is, and a
better Christian than the swine of this village. For several years,"
continued Toma, addressing himself to the crowd of villagers who were
lounging about the door, "for several years have I eaten the bread of
the English, and can testify that they are good Christians, who believe
truly in our Lord the Messiah, and our Lady Mary the Virgin. What more
would you require?" said Toma, looking triumphantly at the Kiahya, as,
with a view to confound him still more, he drew out an Arabic
translation of our Prayer Book, which I had given him, and counted up
the different festivals of the Virgin and Saints, reading them aloud
for the edification of the crowd. "Who shall say now," he triumphantly
inquired, " that the English are not Christians?"

"Saheeh! saheeh! it is true, it is true," responded
the crowd, among
whom were several Mohammedans, " the English are Christians, and
believe in the Saints."

The Yezidee's countenance brightened. "It is
enough," he said,
taking my hand and laying it upon his breast; "you are a Christian.
Enter, my lord, and may peace be with you."

I followed him into a small but neat apartment, the
floor of which
was covered with carpets, which he kindly permitted to remain during my
stay. He spoke some words in Kurdish to two women, who had followed us
into the room, and they brought in my bed, spread it in one corner, and
presently sent me a bowl of yavort, or sour milk, a drink much prized
by the Turks. My host seated himself opposite to me, and I endeavored,
with the occasional assistance of Toma, to draw him into conversation;
but he either knew very little of the tenets of his sect, or was not
disposed to be communicative. He told me that his people hated the
Mohammedans, and loved the Christians; that, from my red cap, and other
parts of my dress, he had, at first, taken me for a Moslem; but, praise
be to God! I was a Christian instead. He advised me to go to the great
temple of Sheikh Adi, where I should be welcome, and see many wonderful
things.

Our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a
crowd of
visitors, headed by the priest of the papal Syrians, a short, pompous
man, with a nasal twang in his speech, and a most self-satisfied air.
They seated themselves, and the conversation soon fell upon the
English.

"They have no religion, wonderful to say," began one
of the party.

"Yes, yes," said another; "they believe in our Lord
Jesus, but not
in our bather, the Pope."

"But they have no churches," remonstrated number
one.

Toma here interposed. "He had seen," he said, "our
service performed
in a chapel at Mosul, which Kass Georgios (my friend B.) had fitted up
in a style like their own, and there was consecration every Sunday, and
prayers every day; and the English fasted also, for, behold, here it
was written in their book."

"That may be," was the answer; "but are we fools,
man? Do we not
know that they do all this to deceive us?"

Toma's choler was rising, but he was afraid of the
priest, whose
hand he had devoutly kissed when he entered; and merely remarked,
apologetically, '1 Well, they are good people."

The clergyman had been puffing away in silence at
the pipe, which,
according to Eastern etiquette, I had handed him when he sat down; but
he now deemed it derogatory to his dignity to listen any longer to
observations from others on a point concerning his own profession. I
could easily perceive that he was the learned man of the village; and
well might he be, for he understood Arabic, Syriac, Chaldee, and
Kurdish. He spoke with the air of a man who has been considering his
subject carefully, and has thoroughly mastered it at last.

"The English are Christians, and have churches; but
they only go to
them once a month, and take the Lord's Supper once in twenty years. On
the latter occasion, the priest stands on a high place, that he may not
be torn in pieces by the crowd who rush tumultuously forward, snatch
the consecrated bread out of his hands, and scramble for it. They are
also allowed to marry as many wives as they please, and some of them
have more than twenty. They are a poor and beggarly people, and have a
heavy debt which they are unable to pay. They are obliged to borrow
large sums of the King of France, who has obtained by this means a kind
of dominion over them."

At the conclusion of this oration, the speaker
looked at me as if he
had been advancing heavy and unanswerable truths, which I might
dislike, but could not controvert.

"Ma hu Saheeh, is it not true?" he asked.

"It is a great falsehood," I answered, calmly, as I
took the pipe
from my lips.

The assembly seemed divided, and appeared to expect
that I should
enter still more into the defence of my nation. My speech, in Arabic,
was feeble; but I contrived, by help of the Prayer Book, to maintain my
ground; and, after a little, forced even the priest to confess that the
English might be Christians, and they might have the sacrament oftener
than once in twenty years; but as to their poverty that was a known
fact, and could not be controverted. Had they not a debt which amounted
to many millions of piastres? Of course I could not deny this: but my
attempts to explain the benefit of that national blessing were utterly
unavailing, and my hearers departed with the firm and invincible
conviction that the English were a beggarly and bankrupt nation.

My host remained till they had all left. "That
priest," he said, "is
a conceited fellow. When I first came here, he tried to stir up the
people against me, and I had much sorrow from him. Bey, what you have
said is the truth, and the English are a good people. Are there any of
our race among them in your own land? They tell me that some of our
brethren live in peace in the country of Hind, under the English
Sultan."

My reply was cut short by Toma, who had been
escorting the priest to
the outer door, where he asked him, with great earnestness, at what
hour he would say mass on the following morning. To his credit, be it
said, he was a great church-goer, and had a considerable respect for
the clergy. Nevertheless, he could not help saying, as he prepared the
bed, "My master, that priest is a great hunzeer,12
but, Inshallah, he shall be disappointed to-morrow, for he may wait
long enough before I go to his service."

CHAPTER X

Monastery of St. Matthew. Mohammedan
veneration for Christian tombs.
Toma's story. An alarm. The gazelle. A night view of the plain of
Nineveh. Shereef Bey. Khoorsabad. A discovery.

ONE of my objects in leaving Mosul had been the
accomplishment of a
design, which I bad lately entertained, of visiting the deserted
monastery of St. Matthew, distant about six miles from the village of
Bagh Sheikha. As our post horses had been hired only as far as the
latter place, I directed Toma to procure some mules from the village,
which after some trouble he succeeded in doing. In these matters, much
must depend upon the disposition and personal feeling of the Kiahya,
who rules absolute over the villages. In the present instance, that
magistrate was not very friendly disposed, for, being a most bigoted
adherent of the Syrian Papal Church, he looked upon an Englishman as a
heretic and infidel, whom it was the duty of a good Christian to harass
and annoy as much as possible. The priest had shown himself, the day
before, decidedly inimical, and his influence in the village was by no
means inconsiderable. In the course of conversation, he had accused the
English of being worse than pagans, of instigating the Nestorians at
Ouromiah to break crosses, pollute their churches, and abandon the
weekly celebration of the Holy Communion. He alluded to the operations
of the American missionaries in that city; and I could hardly convince
him that they were not Englishmen, nor even members of the English
Church.

After he had seen our Liturgy, he began to waver
somewhat in his
former opinion; but it was quite clear that, in times past, he had
pictured an Englishman as the representative of everything vicious and
impious. Charity compels me to hope that these calumnies against our
nation and religion have not been disseminated by the emissaries of the
Roman Church to forward a political and religious end; but it is
singular that they should be generally most prevalent among members of
that communion, and that, when they appear elsewhere, they can almost
always be traced to a similar source.

Our road to the monastery lay at the foot of the
range called Jebel
Makloub, which rises in the midst of the great plain extending from the
Kurdish mountains to the Tigris. We were accompanied by two villagers,
at the earnest request of Toma, who feared alike the Kurds and the
goblins, that were said to -play strange nocturnal pranks in the ruined
and deserted -monastery. Our escort had girded on two rusty swords,
which act appeared to afford them much satisfaction and courage, as
though the possession of arms had been sufficient of itself to deter
all assailants from attacking us.

After a ride of two hours over stones and large
fragments of rock,
which threatened at each moment to impede our further progress, we
arrived at the mouth of a narrow gorge which separates the mountain of
St. Matthew from Jebel Makloub. At the foot of the former was a small
Kurdish village inhabited by Mohammedans, who cast no very friendly
looks at us as we rode by. The ascent of the mountain was by a winding
path, rendered difficult and dangerous by the fragments of rock which
blocked it up, and, in some places, obliged us to dismount and climb
over them the best way we could.

From the ledge on which the monastery was situated a
gentle slope,
covered with green grass, descended about one. fourth of the elevation
of the former, and was bounded by a low wall, as it were, of rocky
fragments, which might have been the result of manual labor. Skirting
this slope to the left, we soon arrived in front of the grand entrance,
over which are the apartments formerly occupied by the Syrian Jacobite
Bishop of Mosul, who, during the prevalence of the hot season in the
town, generally made this place his summer residence. When Mr. Rich
visited the monastery (in 1820) he found it tenanted by the monks and
their episcopal superior, under whom the establishment was then
flourishing in full vigor. Since then, however, it has undergone a
total change, and has been entirely abandoned by its inmates. Not many
years ago, as the monks were celebrating the midnight service of their
church, a band of Kurds crossed the summit of the mountain, burst into
the monastery, broke open the church doors, and defiled the sanctuary
with the blood of the worshipers. Ever since that fatal night, the
building has been deserted, and the superstitious peasant tells of
lights seen dancing amid the ruins, of fearful and spectral forms
gliding along the rocky terraces, of wails and moanings, and strange
and supernatural sounds that have broken the stillness of the midnight
hour.

The monastery consists of four courts, now covered
with grass, and
surrounded by the ruins of the cells which formed originally the
dwellings of the monks. The stone bench of the kitchen was still black
from the fires that had been kindled upon it, and the refectory was in
a tolerable state of preservation. But the part most perfect and
uninjured was the church of the monastery, a fine building with a porch
before the entrance. The interior consisted of two aisles, divided from
each other by a row of stout pillars supporting saracenic arches, which
were terminated by a wall passing along the right side of the choir,
and dividing the. sanctuary from the small chapel on the south side,
formerly used as a baptistery.

A low balustrade of stone work divided the choir
from the nave, the
former of which contained two octangular desks of marble, from which
the lessons were wont to be read. At the east end of the choir, a stone
wall, with three arched entrances, supplied the place of a screen, and
separated the choir from the sanctuary. Within this wall was the great
altar, a square block of stone, raised on three steps, behind which
appeared a semicircular recess. Within the recess was a bench of
similar form, in the centre of which was an elevated seat or throne,
surmounted by a stone canopy. Here was the place of the bishop and his
clergy, at the celebration of the Liturgy. During the other offices,
they stood in the second division of the church, which I have entitled
the choir.

On the north side of the great altar, which occupied
a central and
detached position in the middle of the sanctuary, was a small chapel,
containing a stone table attached to the wall. This table is termed the
prothesis, and upon it the elements are placed before they are carried
to the great altar. The corresponding chapel to the south of the latter
contained the font, a large vessel of stone, well adapted for the
purposes of immersion, which the Eastern churches practice in lieu of
sprinkling. To the north of the choir was an entrance leading to a
small chamber, which contained the monuments of several Syrian Jacobite
bishops, among others of the celebrated Oriental historian and divine,
Gregorius Bar Hebraeus, called also Aboulfarage.

One of the men who had accompanied us from Bagh
Sheikha was a
Mohammedan, and, to my great surprise, he knelt respectfully before
each of the tombs, and kissed them repeatedly and with great
veneration. On asking him the reason why he thus reverenced the memory
of Christians, he replied, that they were good men, and professors of
Islam. This term in fact includes not only Mohammedans, but all Jews
until the time of our Saviour, and all Christians from that period till
the appearance of the- false prophet.

As we moved about the different parts of the church,
we disturbed
large assemblages of bats and owls, the flapping of whose wings
dislodged portions of the plaster from the roof and covered us with
dust. After having satisfied my curiosity, I returned to the porch.
Between it and the church was a narrow staircase leading to a small
room, one window of which looked into the sacred building, and the
other into a small chapel dedicated to the Virgin. It had served as a
kind. of vestry in former times, and was used by visitors to the
monastery as a sleeping apartment.

My dinner or supper having been cooked below, I ate
and drank, and
was about to prepare myself for 'repose: But, hardly had I finished my
meal when a violent storm came on, the wind howled dismally through the
old arches and ruined cells, the rain began to pour down in torrents,
and imagination might almost trace, in the mournful echo of the blasts,
the origin of those moans and lamentations which had so often been
heard below. Toma and his companions had originally taken up their
station in a room underneath; but, when the storm began, they appeared
with rueful faces, and requested permission to keep me company, for
Toma remarked, that his solicitude for my safety could not allow him to
remain at a distance from me. The others complained that the rain had
invaded their apartment, and, therefore, they hoped that they might be
allowed to share mine.

Although I felt that their society would be little
protection in
case of a visitation from either Kurds or genii, I could not refuse to
have pity on their terrors, and consented to grant their request. The
villagers from Bagh Sheikha had brought a good supply of wood, from
which they supplied the materials for a cheerful fire. The wind and
rain without had not abated in violence, and feeling indisposed for
sleep, I requested Toma to continue the story of his illness at
Diarbekir, which had been interrupted on a previous occasion by the
appearance of the Yezidee. My wortby Chaldean adherent loved nothing
better than to hear himself talk; and having, by, my directions, taken
his seat cross-legged on the floor, he began his tale:

"I have informed you already, oh, my master, that I
was the servant
of an Englishman, who, like yourself, was a traveler in this country.
He was a good man, but rather hasty and impatient, as, with your leave,
most Englishmen are. Instead of journeying, as we do, for about an
hour, and then alighting to smoke a pipe and to drink coffee, it was
nothing but, 'Yallah, yallah'13
from the beginning of the day's march to the end. When we arrived at a
station, only a few hours' rest was allotted to us, and away went my
master again as if some evil demon was in pursuit of him. Well, I could
not endure all this haste, for my motto, and that of every Eastern man,
is, as you doubtless know, 'Yawash, yawash.'14
So, when we reached Diarbekir, I fell sick, and was unable to proceed
any further.

"My master was very sorry, for, as I told, you, he
was a goad man,
but, had I been his brother, he would not have waited for me. So he
said, 'Toma, Inshallah, I depart from Diarbekir at two o'clock
to-morrow morning, but I shall leave you here, pay you the whole of
your wages and give you a present besides, so that, when you are well,
you may return in peace to your village.' Before I could thank him he
was gone to make arrangements for me, and ere I had recovered from my
surprise I was comfortably settled in the house of one of our priests,
whom my master begged to take care of me, leaving hit, money for
necessary expenses, and he also gave me money, saying, 'Addio, Toma,
may God restore you!'

"So I kissed his hand, and lo! he was gone, and I
heard the
trampling of his horse's feet as I was counting the sum he had left me.
I need not tell you that it was more than my due, for the English,
although hasty, are a generous people; may God preserve them!

"My illness increased, and though the good priest,
my host, who
understood medicine much better, as he said, than any Frank, doctor,
did his best for me, I grew worse and worse. My mind began to wander,
and often I seemed to be in my own village again, with my old friends
and neighbors around me, far from Diarbekir and its black walls. Once I
thought that I went into our village church and prayed before the
picture of St. George, that Father Antoan, may God have mercy upon him,
brought from Rome. And when I awoke, I reasoned with myself thus: 'Why
should I not ask the good St. George to help me? for it seems that man
can do nothing for me.' So I prayed to the good saint for his
intercession and aid before I slept, and in the night he stood before
me, dressed like the picture in the church, except that he seemed to be
on foot. His countenance looked pleasant and smiling, so that I took
courage and said, 'O Mar Georgios, pity me.' Then he smiled graciously
on me, and seemed to touch me with his spear, after which he
disappeared, and I awoke. Then sending for Kas15
Stephan, I related to him my dream.

"But Kas Stephan said, 'Isbar, have patience my son,
for it may be
that the holy George will again appear to thee.' And behold, on that
night, and on the next also, be came as before, and I began to recover,
and soon after was completely restored, whereupon I returned with joy,
and made an offering to St. George in my own village church, telling my
story to all the villagers, who wondered thereat exceedingly."

Toma," I said, when he had concluded, "there is but
one Mediator
between God and man, even our Lord Yesua. St. George we know little of;
but I hope and believe that he was a holy man who would have counseled
you, if you could have asked his advice, to pray directly to God
himself. Perhaps, however, it may have pleased Allah to forgive you for
what you did in ignorance, and with a good intention, and to look
rather on your faith, and earnest desire to obtain a supernatural
blessing through the medium of His servant."

I might have gone on farther in my admonition, but
when I had
proceeded thus far, Toma laid his hand on my arm, and entreated me to
be silent, as he heard, he said, the sound of footsteps. I listened,
and could clearly distinguish the falling of rubbish, and other noises,
which seemed to indicate the approach of intruders. Snatching up my
gun, I sallied forth in spite of Toma's entreaties, and followed the
sounds, which appeared to be receding, into the court below. Another
fall of rubbish directed my attention to the ramparts of the monastery,
where, in full relief against the sky, I beheld the figure of a large
gazelle, its wild watchful eyes directed towards the porch.

The storm was passing over, and the moon was shining
in her full,
brightness, with that clear brilliancy which is witnessed only in
Eastern skies. Sheltered by a pillar, I watched the movements of the
gazelle. It stood for some minutes as if irresolute, and then leaped
over the rampart: I rushed forward, and clambering over some rubbish,
reached the place where I first saw it. Looking down, I beheld the
beautiful creature bounding from ledge to ledge along the side of the
mountain, as if exulting in its wild freedom, and defying the swiftest
efforts of pursuers. I was enjoying the sight when Toma and his
companions joined me. Feeling in no mood, for their society, I
dismissed them to their repose, and continued to gaze with much
interest on the scene before me.

At the foot of the mountain lay the plains of Athur,
once the site
of that great and mighty Nineveh, where reigned the first conquerors
whom the earth ever knew. Happy might it have been for her children,
had the era of conquest, spoliation, and violence terminated with the
downfall and ruin of that haughty city, which first taught the lessons
of ambition and crime to those who 'too eagerly received and carried
them into action. Yet what a moral might be derived from the -present
condition of the capital of Assur. In lieu of lofty palaces and
gorgeous temples, the eye surveys only the mounds composed of their
dust, or the miserable collections of huts which have arisen on their
site. The gardens where Sardanapalus reveled are wasted and desolate;
the sounds of softand luxurious music that once floated on the
soft Assyrian breezes, have yielded to the silence of devastation or
decay. Nothing could be more striking, indeed, than the stillness which
prevailed. Not a sound interrupted the pro. found repose of nature and
of man. Even the cry of the wild animals which disturbs the solitude of
ancient Babylon, was of heard here. It was the calmness, the dignified
decay of ruined majesty, not the blighting operation of a curse which
the crimes and the sins of past days had called forth. The relics of
Babylon impressed me with awe, almost with terror; those of Nineveh
inspired more a feeling of sympathy and mournful regret.

As I pace that lonely rampart in my midnight walk,
visions of the
past seem to rise from yonder deserted plains, and to present
themselves before me. Lofty palaces uprear their towering pinnacles in
every direction. Terraced gardens, where art has done its utmost to
rival, and, perhaps, to out-vie nature, appear filled with choicest
fruits, and garnished with flowers of the most varied and brilliant
hues. Artificial streams pursue their winding course amid these
luxuriant plantations, and temper with refreshing coolness the heats of
a summer, sun. On their banks a thousand curiously wrought bowers
receive the gay troops of revelers, who, crowned with garlands, spend
their hours as if life were designed to be one loin and uninterrupted
revel. From his marble tower, the Chaldean sage tracks the silent
course of the heavenly watchers, as they gleam with redoubled
brilliancy from the blue and cloudless expanse above. Glittering bands
of warriors pass to and fro, exhibiting to the gaze of the curious, the
spoils of distant India and Media, mingled with the trophies torn from
the cities of the sacred land. Suddenly in the midst of that careless
and rejoicing city, a worn and travel-stained form pronounces in a loud
and unearthly voice--"Yet, forty clays, and Nineveh shall be
destroyed." The monarch quits his throne, the people change their
habits of festivity for sackcloth, and all prostrate themselves before,
the God of the stranger. The supplication is heard, and, for a time at
least, the doom of Nineveh is averted.

The vision changes, and in lieu of the gay and
joyous scenes which
first attracted the eye, or the mournful and penitential groups that
succeeded to them, the imagination pictures the public places of the
mighty city filled with anxious and apprehensive crowds who recall with
trembling earnestness the fearful predictions of a Hebrew Seer. From
the neighboring regions of Alkosh have gone forth the accents of doom.
The bloody city, the city of robbery and lies, must perish. Hosts of
barbarians rush from the neighboring hills, overpower the effeminate
and feeble inhabitants; and Nineveh falls, even as a gallant ship that
founders in the midst of the solitary and trackless ocean, leaving no
trace of her existence, no floating memorial of her fate.16

Returning to my room, I slept undisturbed till the
next morning,
when we prepared to return to Bagh Sheikha. While Toma and his
companions were getting things in readiness, I set out to examine the
locality of the monastery, having arranged to meet the mules at the
bottom of the mountain of St. Matthew. Above us, rose the summit of the
eminence to a considerable height, the rocky side having been hollowed
in many places, to form retreats for those who considered life in the
monastery as not sufficiently solitary for their tastes. The paths
leading to these eaves were steep, narrow, and dangerous, but custom
had doubtless rendered them less difficult to the devotees, who were
accustomed to attend even the midnight services in the church below.

Descending the mountain, I came to a hollow cavern,
containing a
dropping well, near which was a kind of reservoir or tank, excavated by
the hand of nature or art in the recesses of the rock. It was full of
water, supplied from an internal spring, and communicated with a well
which we bad observed above in one of the apartments of the bishop's
house.

On arriving at Bagh Sheikha, I resumed my old
quarters in the house
of the Yezidee, who daily treated us with increasing kindness and
hospitality. My opponents, the priest and the Kiahya, were busily
engaged in collecting the salian. The season of application for taxes
is a period of no small tribulation to the inhabitants of an Eastern
village. No. inconsiderable amount of cunning and chicanery is called
into action to oppose the violence of government agents, who generally
apply the bastinado as the last resort. Nature, however, has endowed
the Oriental peasant with the faculty of endurance to an extraordinary
degree. Men have frequently allowed their feet to be beaten almost to a
jelly before they would yield up their secreted earnings.

Soon after my return, I was honored with a visit
from Shereef Bey,
the proprietor of the village, and the adjoining lands. He viewed some
maps, which I showed him, with the curiosity of a child. Though well
versed in Arabic literature, he seemed astonished and even scandalized,
when I informed him that the world was round. He told me that Arabic
was a low vulgar dialect, and advised me to study Turkish. The
interview terminated with a request for medicine, but I had
unfortunately none to bestow. On inquiry, I found that the bey was the
physician of the whole village, and had considerable practice, as it
was his custom to give both medicine and advice gratis. He required the
Frank drugs for his own use, having probably little faith in the
nostrums of the country.

In the afternoon, I returned the visit, and found
the bey's mansion
a large, irregularly built edifice, the court of which was, as usual,
crowded with dependents. The sitting-room was a long apartment,
furnished with divan mattresses, extended on the ground, and not raised
upon frames as at Mosul. A large number of the head men of the
neighboring villages sat cross-legged on these, leaning against the
wall, and smoking their long pipes. At the end of the room, two divans
slightly raised from the ground, were appropriated to the bey and his
visitor. He rose to receive me, and, after the usual salutations,
requested me to be seated.

While pipes and coffee were being served, my host
began to question
me about Europe. He asked whether England was larger than Russia, and
if it was true that every Englishman had twenty wives; whether France
were not an island, and Germany subject to the Pope of Rome. "He had
heard," he continued, "that the English had a kind of machine, which
traversed immeasurable distances, in a short period of time, through
the air."

"Ajaib, ajaib, wonderful! wonderful!" ejaculated the
whole room.

"You must know," said the bey, condescendingly,
"that, when the
English want to take a city, they cause this machine to hover over it,
and then they begin with cannons and bombshells to demolish the houses!
Verily the English are a wonderful people!"

After this, my explanation of the nature and use of
balloons was
thought tame and flat, and was interrupted by the bey, who inquired, "whether the English had any religion, and whether they fasted?"

"They have fast days appointed," said the priest,
"in their Book of
Prayers, but they do not abstain from eating on those occasions; they
only substitute fish for meat."

"The wiser men, they," rejoined the bey, who
probably spoke
feelingly, as it was Ramadan.

When I had finished my pipe, I rose to take my
leave, having
impressed the bey with a more favorable opinion than he had hitherto
entertained of the English. I am afraid, however, that he retained
respecting us much the same sentiments that we should hold concerning
the Chinese or Jaanese, and considered us a race of civilized
barbarians.

On my return to the house of the Yezidee, I
distributed several
small Arabic translations of the Elements of Geography among the
villagers, and bale Toma hire some horses for our journey. While he was
gone, a Mohammedan entered, followed by several of the villagers, and,
addressing himself to me, said:--

"O bey, why are you lingering here, when wonderful
things are doing
at Khoorsabad? Upon my head, the workmen of the French Balios17 have discovered
the treasure
halls of Nineveh, and the idols which those Kafirs (may the curse of
Allah light upon their graves!) used to worship."

"Surely, you jest, O man!" I replied; "you mean they
have found some
bricks with writing upon them."

"No, on my eye," he answered, "they are idols and
nothing else. Did
I not see them as I passed through?"

This intelligence, which I received with no small
degree of
incredulity, determined me to change my route, and go first to
Khoorsabad. The Mohammedan remained till Toma's arrival with the
horses, and, finding he still persisted in his story, I took the road
leading to the place where the discovery had been made. My host, the
Yezidee, refused all compensation; so, taking a kind leave of him, I
left the village tolerably satisfied, upon the whole, with my sojourn
there.

For some days previous to my departure from Mosul,
M. Botta, the
amiable and intelligent Consul of France at that place, had been making
excavations on the largest of the Nineveh mounds, called Kuyunjik by
the Turks, but had found nothing but bricks with arrow-headed
inscriptions. It would have seemed then to me and others at Mosul, the
height of improbability to anticipate that any more substantial relics
of ancient Assyria might be brought to light, or to imagine that,
within a few feet of the green turf, which our horses' feet had so
often trodden, there lay buried some of the most singular and
interesting memorials of a nation's greatness, that ever survived the
wreck of time.

My disbelief and unwillingness to credit the
relation of the
Mohammedan villager were succeeded by emotions of almost stupefying
surprise, when, after hastening through the village of Khoorsabad, I
dismounted near the excavations, and cast a wondering glance at the
scene which there presented itself. Slowly emerging from the excavated
soil, was the upper part of a stone slab, containing, in bas-relief,
the representation of a siege, as I learned afterwards, when the
workmen, stimulated by my presence, had cleared away the earth from the
lower extremity. It is impossible for me to say, whether astonishment
or gratification predominated, as I gazed on these remains of a mighty
empire. Nineveh had latterly occupied my thoughts very much, but I
should almost as soon have expected to encounter the figure of Ninus
himself as to witness the discovery of these relics of his far famed
city. Yet, even while I hailed this first fruits of Assyrian
researches, I doubted whether the slabs would bear transmission to
Europe. Those tablets seemed too fragile to endure the rude mode of
conveyance which must be adopted in a country so little famed for
progress in the mechanical arts. They will be broken before they reach
Mosul, I murmured to myself, as I stood wrapt in contemplation at the
edge of the excavation. I am happy in being able to add that this
prophecy has been falsified, and that my old acquaintances of
Khoorsabad, with many others, have been conveyed in safety to Paris,
and lodged securely within the Bibliotheque du Roi.

As M. Botta was expected to arrive the next evening
at the village,
I determined to await his coming, even at the personal sacrifice of
passing a night in one of the wretched mud cabins in the vicinity of
the excavations. Having nothing to occupy my attention, I walked into
the neighboring plain, which was only partially cultivated. As I
strolled along, I perceived, at the distance of about a mile from the
village, what I at first supposed to be a column of stone. On
approaching nearer, however, I found it was an altar or table of
triangular form, supporting a round top or platform, of about two
inches in thickness, bearing an inscription in cuneiform characters.

When M. Botta arrived, I made over to him my
discovery, upon which
he informed me that his workmen had found a similar one in another part
of the plain. It is wonderful to reflect on, and almost impossible to
realize, the fact that this altar must have remained in the place where
I found it, for nearly two thousand years, and perhaps for a longer
period exposed to the weather, to the injuries of time, and to the
misuses to which the ignorant villagers might have subjected it, still
retaining its form and appearance unimpaired. The men who had offered
sacrifice upon it, the haughty monarchs, the proud priests, had long
since become dust, and their very names had been forgotten, while the
mute and inanimate stone alone remained to recall the existence of an
empire. A humiliating reflection for the vanity of man!

The village of Khoorsabad is distant about fifteen
miles to the
north-east of Mosul; and is built on an artificial mound, rising about
ninety feet from the plain. Its present name is supposed to be an
abbreviation of the word Khosroobad, the city of Khosroo or Cyrus. If
this be true, these remains may have been the work of the same people
who executed the sculptures and inscriptions at Persepolis, described
by Sir R. K. Porter. The arrow-headed characters seem to have been
common to the three nations of Persia, Chaldea, and Assyria; and
perhaps formed the vehicle for the communication, or perhaps rather
concealment, of religious mysteries and astronomical observations.18

It is possible that the mound on which the village
is situated
would, if carefully examined, fully repay the trouble of excavating.
For a small sum,--the villagers would willingly quit their
mud dwellings, and establish themselves elsewhere. Constant trouble and
interruptions, however, must be anticipated from the Pasha of Mosul,
should such a step be attempted. Ignorant themselves, and brutally
indifferent to the remains of antiquity, the Turks can never be
persuaded that old sculptures and inscriptions are the objects searched
for by the enterprising Frank. They think that he is looking for buried
treasures, or some long hidden parchments or documents, concealed by
the former owners of the country; the possession of which would cause
it to revert to the fortunate discoverer. Among the better classes,
jealousy and prejudice, as well as the hatred and contempt for
Christians, so inherent in every Mussulman breast, supply the same
opposition offered by the superstition of the vulgar.

CHAPTER XI

The plain. Sheikh Adi. The Yezidees.

AFTER spending an agreeable evening with M. Botta,
under the
hospitable shade of the tent which he had-brought with him
from Mosul, I began to think of pursuing my journey to Sheikh Adi. My
preparations were made after my return to the, but where I had taken up
my abode, and before daylight I as on horseback, being anxious to
avoid, as much as possible, the rays of the mid-day sun. My road lay
across the undulating plain which extends from the foot of the Gordywan
Mountains to the banks of the Tigris. During our ride, we encountered,
perpetually, mounds of the same shape and size as that on which
Khoorsabad is situated. As we drew nearer the mountains, we passed
several Yezidee villages, in the vicinity of which might be observed
the small cone-shaped monuments which had already attracted my
attention.

At length we reached the entrance of the pass
leading to Sheikh Adi,
and experienced the most grateful sensations from the change which had
taken place in the temperature. Instead of the heat of the plain-a heat
which had of late been rendered more intolerable by the glare reflected
from the low stony hills over which we had passed, the cool breezes
from the mountains played around us, while the high ranges on each side
of the pathway enabled us to bid defiance to the sun. In the centre of
the pass, a stream, almost choked with stunted willows, crept lazily
along, forming a not unpleasing contrast with the cascades, which might
be discerned at the end of the numerous ravines that ever and anon
opened at our side. The mountains were covered with green, and the
lofty oaks, mingling their verdant foliage with each other, presented
an agreeable spectacle to one who had scarcely seen a tree since his
departure from Mosul.

After a ride of an hour, we reached the entrance of
the valley, at
the termination of which, arising from a thick mass of foliage, might
be discerned the spires and dome of Sheikh Adi. I dispatched Toma on in
front to prepare the guardians. of the tomb for my visit. Tired as I
was, the scene was so enchanting, that I could hardly help checking the
speed of my horse, and proceeding more leisurely that I might enjoy it.
A quiet rivulet flowed through the midst of the valley, and supplied
the inmates of the temple with the means of ablution and purification.

After I had passed the outer gate, my attention was
directed to
numerous tanks or cisterns, containing the purest and clearest water I
have ever seen or tasted.

At the inner entrance, the subordinate ministers of
the shrine met
me, with expressions of kindly welcome. They were clad in garments of
black, which gave a sombre air to their appearance. I dismounted, and
passed through an outer court, at the side of which were several cells
or recesses, which they told me were for the accommodation of the
pilgrims at the great annual festival. This outer court was separated
by a wall from the inner inclosure, which surrounds the edifice
containing the tomb. To the right hand was a dwelling for the ministers
and guardians, on the second floor of which I took up my abode. Several
Nestorians from the mountains shared the hospitality of our hosts. They
spoke in high terms to Toma of the kindness which-they had always
experienced from the Yezidees.

After my dinner, I received a visit from two of the
servants of the
tomb, accompanied by a middle-aged woman, who was treated with great
respect, and who proved to be the mother of one of my visitors. They
knew but little of Arabic, so that my conversation with them was
carried on through the medium of Torna, who spoke Kurdish fluently. The
old lady received with great pleasure the pipe which one of the men
handed her, and showed no want of acquaintance with the art of smoking.
I endeavored, but with small success, to gain from my hosts some
information as to their tenet's and peculiar habits. They seemed to
know little, onto be unwilling to reveal what they knew. I was enabled
afterwards to collect more -intelligence respecting them,
which will be communicated in another paragraph.

In the morning, I expressed my wish to view the
interior of the
temple. It forms one side of the inner court, and the outward wall is
covered with emblems, which may or may not bear a mystical character.
One of the most conspicuous of these was the figure of a serpent, which
might convey an allusion to the Evil Principle. On entering, I found
the interior resembled very much that of a church with two aisles,
divided by a range of arches. On the right of the door appeared a large
tank filled with water, which my guides informed me was used for
baptism. To the left were several sepulchral cells, before which lamps
were burning. Curtains of printed calico suspended before the entrance
of each concealed from view the sarcophagus within. The last of these
cells contains the tomb of Sheikh Adi himself, and bears on it an
inscription taken from the Koran.

I shall now take this opportunity of furnishing the
reader with all
the information which I have been able to collect respecting the
Yezidees, and will then offer a few remarks an the probable origin of
this singular sect.

As far as I have been able to ascertain, Hyde, in
his "Religio
Veterum Persarum," is the first European writer who mentions the
Yezidees. His account, though full of prejudicial statements derived
from the writings of their enemies, contains some curious particulars,
a few of which I shall now insert.

"The Yezidees of Kurdistan greatly esteem black
dogs, and everything
else black, on account of the color of the devil, whom they venerate
and call ustad, or master. The priest of the Yezidees also, who, like a
fit minister of such a master, goes clad in a sombre garb, is styled by
them the Yezidee disciple; but all men of this kind are called by the
Mohammedans and Christians Sheitani, that is, belonging to Satan,
because they acknowledge Satan to be their peer, sheikh, or guide,
after that saying of the Orientals, 'Whosoever has no guide, the devil
will guide him.' These deny the resurrection, and hold a middle opinion
between the Mohammedans and pagans. They believe in the existence of
God, but they do not worship Him."19

He goes on to accuse them of committing certain
crimes and
impurities at their great annual festival. The report of this writer
may be taken as fairly representing the view entertained of the
Yezidees by the Mohammedans and Christians of Mosul and the vicinity.
Yet the candid inquirer into their tenets must remember that similar
calumnies existed in early times with regard to the primitive
believers. The love of exaggeration and of the marvelous, which is the
ruling passion of the Oriental, may well account for the propagation
and reception of these monstrous charges.

The sect commonly called Yezidees refuse that
appellation, as a mark
of reproach. They prefer the title of Daseni, which is supposed to be
derived from the name of an ancient province of Assyria. In
contradiction to the assertion of Hyde, that they prefer black as a
favorite color, I must oppose the fact, that not any of them wear it,
except the guardians, or servants, of the tomb of Sheikh Adi. Their
priesthood, if I may give it this title, possesses, like that of the
Christians, three grades, answering to the orders of bishop, priest,
and deacon.20
They pay a
great veneration to fire, and to the rising sun. They practice
circumcision, and a rite similar in administration to baptism. A
writer, quoted by Hyde, represents them as holding wine in great
esteem, and of giving to it the appellation of the blood of Christ.

Much mystery seems to exist as to the object of
their worship.
Persons of tried veracity have assured me that, at the village of
Baadri, is preserved, with great care, the figure of a peacock, made of
tin, and termed Malek Taoos, or King Peacock. The Yezidees at Sheikh
Adi admitted their belief in Malek Taoos. When questioned as to his
whereabouts, they inquired where is Jesus? The answer was, everywhere.
Upon which they rejoined, so is Malek Taoos. They profess generally
great love to Christians, and to Christianity, and I have even heard
the opinion expressed, that they would willingly embrace our religion,
were it not that they fear the rapacity of the government might make
this change of faith a pretence for extortion and violence.

The respect with which the Yezidees regard the Evil
Principle
renders them angry and annoyed when his name is mentioned in
conversation. Yet I have never been able to discover that any act of
direct adoration is paid to him. The most peculiar feature in the creed
of the Yezidees is the total absence of any ritual or prescribed mode
of worship. Although I have remained among them for several days, I
have never been able to detect anything like veneration for a superior
power; except that, at Sheikh Adi, I have remarked that they paid a
kind of adoration to the rising sun.

They speak with the utmost veneration of Christ, and
seem even to
expect His re-appearance upon earth. They also expressed great
veneration for the Gospel, a copy of which I showed them at Sheikh Adi.
Respecting the latter person, I could learn nothing very satisfactory,
although I was profuse in my inquiries. They did not seem to know how
long the Temple had been in the possession of their sect; and, when it
was asserted, in their presence, that the building had formerly been a
Christian monastery, they merely remarked that it might have been so.
On my asking more particularly respecting the origin of their creed,
they seemed, as far as I could understand, to indicate the East as the
direction from which it had formerly been introduced.

Such appear to be the principal characteristics of
this interesting,
and much calumniated sect, characteristics which seem to point clearly
to the source from whence their doctrines originally sprang. Let us now
endeavor to ascertain whether we can establish the connection, which
appears at first sight so strikingly evident, between their tenets and
those of Manes.

CHAPTER XII

Early spread of Christianity in Assyria
and Persia. The Magians.
Manes and his institutions. Manicheeism of the Yezidees. Rabban
Hormuzd.

THE attention of the apostles had been, at an early
period, directed
to the land of Naharaim and the parts adjacent. Among the converts at
the day of Pentecost, we read of the dwellers in Mesopotamia, of
Parthians, Medes, and Elamites; many of whom probably carried back with
them the seeds of truth, and labored in scattering them among their
idolatrous countrymen. The strong similarity which existed between the
manners, customs, and language 6f the Eastern and Western Syrians
probably tended to; facilitate the extension of the Gospel, so that it
is not surprising, if, before the middle of the second century, we find
the Christian religion pervading the regions of ancient Assyria, and
possessing a considerable number of adherents even in Persia itself.

Three hundred years after the birth of Our Lord, his
divine religion
had effected great conquests, and the metropolitan of Seleucia, the
modern Babylon, might almost with justice lay claim to the lofty title
of Patriarch of the East. But Christianity had to struggle in Persia
with an antagonist more subtle and more dangerous -than the effete and
worn-out systems of idolatry which, in the West, yielded to it almost
without a struggle. The legends of the Greek mythology required and
obtained the assistance of the civil power to sustain their influence,
and the rapidity with which the whole fabric of superstition crumbled
and fell, after that assistance had been withdrawn, proved at once its
inherent weakness, and incapability of maintaining its ground alone.
But the theology of the Magi was of a widely different character. Free
from much of the puerility and open folly of the Grecian system, it
gave less offence to the reasoning and philosophical mind by its
ceremonial observances, while an attentive regard for the duties of
morality, and a freedom from the licentious practices enjoined by the
rituals of other superstitions, tended to secure to its priesthood a
large amount of authority and popular veneration.

Nor must we forget that the Magian system professed
to solve a
problem which had long been the subject of anxious and earnest
speculation. The mind that attempts, without the aid of Revelation, to
understand the constitution and course of mortal affairs, will find
itself unable to account for the existence of evil in a world where all
things seem to bear the impress of goodness. The earth that nourishes,
the beauties of nature that delight their beholders, form a strong and
marked contrast to the sickness that wastes and destroys the human
frame, and the storms which scatter ruin and devastation in their
course. The evils brought upon mankind by poverty, rapine, and warfare
seem to indicate the active operation of an evil principle, endeavoring
to disturb the placid serenity produced by plenty, quiet, and peace.
The question, therefore, will necessarily arise, whence and of what
nature is this influence, which seems to mar and disturb the happiness
of creation? How is it possible that a beneficent Being like the
Creator of the universe can be at once the author of evil, and the
producer of good; the parent of two principles which must be ever in
active antagonism, and mutually counteract, and therefore, nullify each
other?

The Magian philosophy, attempted to answer and to
satisfy these
queries, by referring the different effects of good and, evil to the
operation of two principles, equal in power and authority, and
continually in conflict; nor can it be doubted that a theory could not
be wanting in subtlety and apparent truth, which, under the name of
Manicheeism, prevailed so extensively in Western Asia and in Europe,
and possessed sufficient attractions for the clear and logical mind of
St. Augustine.

Such was the opinion which, in the third century,
contested with
Christianity the empire of the extreme East; attracting reverence from
its antiquity, and attention from the speciousness of its doctrines.
The Magi found themselves, however, losing their hold on the minds of
their votaries; the doctrine of the two principles, with its hopeless
fatalism, yielded before the bright vision of good, triumphing finally
over evil, and of man, reconciled to God by the sufferings of incarnate
Deity. Despite the persecution with which the Magi assailed the new
opinions, their adherents increased; and in Persia, as elsewhere, the
blood of martyrs proved, eventually, the seed of the church.

While matters were in this state, a young Magian,
named Manes,
conceived the idea of reconciling, and uniting in one, the teaching of
the Magi and the doctrines of Christ. Nor did the attempt seem
altogether hopeless; the Jehovah of the, Gospel might be easily made to
represent the Yezd, the Good Principle of the Persian mythology; while
the Satan of the Christian system became identical with the Ahriman, or
Evil Principle. A substitute for the Redeemer was found in the Persian
Mithras, who was supposed to represent to mankind the brightness of
eternal light.

In order to recommend himself more strongly to the
Christians, whose
system he appears to have carefully studied, the audacious impostor had
the effrontery to represent himself as the Paraclete promised by Christ
to his disciples, who should lead them into all truth. This expression
was perverted, by Manes, to signify that the Christian system was not
yet perfect, but was to expect its completion and final settlement at
the coming of a Divine messenger, commissioned by God to explain more
fully the way of life. The same pretensions were afterwards advanced by
Mohammed, and admitted by his disciples as an authority for his
mission.

As he proceeded in his attempt to reconcile the two
systems, the
Persian impostor found himself reduced to the necessity of casting
discredit on nearly all the books of the Old and New Testaments, and of
substituting in their place a fabrication of his own. He also affirmed
that the Evil Principle was the God of the Jews, and had stirred up the
chief priests to put Christ to death. He denied, however, that he
really suffered crucifixion; a phantom was substituted in his place,
and the Redeemer returned to his throne in the sun, having previously
commissioned twelve apostles to propagate his doctrine; announcing, at
the same time, that they were to expect a fuller and more perfect
revelation at the appearance of a mysterious messenger termed the
Paraclete.

The tenets of this new revelation, seem to have been
as follows. The
empire of the universe is divided between two potentates, the Rulers of
Light and Darkness; the Ruler of Light is in himself supremely happy
and benevolent, while the Prince of Darkness is unhappy, evil, and
malignant. Both these have given existence, at_ various times, to
numberless beings, resembling themselves in character and in
disposition. The Prince of Darkness, becoming aware of the existence of
light in the universe, resolved to do his utmost to suppress it; to
counteract his malicious designs, the Ruler of Light opposed an army,
commanded by the first man, which was partially unsuccessful, for the
Prince of Darkness was enabled to seize on a considerable portion of
the Divine light, and to mingle it with the mass of corrupt matter; he,
however, suffered afterwards a signal defeat from the armies of light,
but they failed in recovering any portion of the element that had been
captured.

The Prince of Darkness afterwards created the
parents of the human
race from this mingled mass, forming the bodies from corrupt matter,
and the souls from those particles of Divine light which he had
captured: The beneficence of the Good Principle then formed the earth
as an habitation for the newly-created beings, that, while dwelling
upon it, the captive particles of light might be delivered from their
corporeal prisons, and be restored to their former condition. In order
to aid them in their struggles with corrupt and malignant matter, the
Ruler of Light produced, from his own essence, two beings, entitled
Christ and the Holy Ghost, the former of whom he dispatched on a
mission to mankind, clothed with the shadowy form of a human body. The
Prince of Darkness procured his seeming death, and, having fulfilled
his appointed mission, he left the completion of the system revealed by
him, to the care of Manes, the Persian-the promised Paraclete.

The substance of the new doctrine appears to have
been, that the
body, being composed of corrupt matter, is naturally evil, and attempts
to defeat the aspirations of its celestial prisoner, the soul. Sin,
therefore, is nothing more than the obeying the inclinations-of the
body, which ought to be mortified and chastised by fasting, and other
acts of discipline, in order to diminish its influence, and restrain
its importunities. Those, therefore, who, by extravagant austerities,
succeed in vanquishing the frailties of their corporeal foe, shall
depart, after death, to the moon, where they undergo a lustration, by
means of water, which purifies still more their nature, and renders
them capable of essaying the last probation-that of fire, which will
take place in the sun. Having passed, successfully, through these two
stages of being, they enter the dwelling of Eternal Light, leaving
their corrupt and evil bodies to return to their former state.

A more lengthened trial, however, awaits those who
neglect to obey
the injunctions of Christ as interpreted and explained by Manes. They
must pass through the bodies of different animals, and undergo, in
those forms, the amount of pain and suffering that may be deemed
necessary for their purification. When this is terminated, a fire shall
burst forth and consume the earth, while the Prince of Darkness and his
adherents will be delivered over to perpetual misery in the regions of
eternal gloom, from which all egress shall be barred by an army of the
delivered souls, who will also prevent all farther invasions of the
realms of light.21

These opinions were intrusted for propagation to the
zeal of several
grades of ministers, answering in degree to the orders of the church. A
president, who was said to represent Jesus Christ, exercised
patriarchal authority over twelve apostles or metropolitans, who, in
their turn, directed the operations of seventy-two bishops, and an
unlimited number of priests and deacons.

The weakness, or the good sense, of some of his
followers obliged
the Persian Paraclete to divide his adherents into two classes, one of
which devoted themselves exclusively to the sublimer austerities, while
their more humble brethren can tented themselves with the less
ostentatious virtues of sobriety and temperance. The latter were even
permitted to taste the sweets of connubial affection, which the more
rigid fanatics repelled as a sin.

The doctrines of Manes were too well adapted to the
love of mystery,
and appetite for austerities, which characterizes the Orientals, not to
attract, in spite of their incoherence and absurdity, numerous
adherents. The pernicious tenets overran Persia and Mesopotamia, and
penetrated even to Europe, where they could scarcely be stifled by the
iron hand of Rome. So late as the conclusion of the fifteenth century,
they inhabited, in great numbers, the countries of Bosnia and Servia,
and reckoned, among their many and powerful protectors, the monarch of
the former kingdom.22

If, therefore, we find, in a region adjacent to
Persia, a sect
resembling, in the main points of their faith, the followers of Manes,
we have, to say the least, a strong presumption in favor of the opinion
expressed a few pages back. The Yezidees, as Kurds, boast a Persian
origin, and they inhabit the very spot where the dogmas of the
heresiarch were most popular in the third and fourth centuries. They
have no altars, no images, no directly idolatrous worship, which might
connect them with an older form of error. In their veneration for
Christ, and in their attachment to his followers, they betray the signs
of a system founded on corrupted Christianity; while their reverence
for fire, light, and the Evil Principle suggest points of resemblance
to Manicheeism that should not be overlooked. Their baptism is the
imitation of a Christian sacrament, while the practice of circumcision,
although common, is never considered, to the best of my knowledge, as a
religious act. Like the Druses of Mount Lebanon, they appear to have
regarded it rather as a means of, propitiating, or, perhaps, of
deceiving, their Mohammedan tyrants.

It is not, indeed, to be imagined that the Yezidees
have maintained
untainted the system of Manes. In their veneration for the Evil
Principle, they will seem to have exceeded the tenets propounded by
him. But it is ever the tendency of error to corrupt itself, and to
make its successive developments more evil still. It may be remarked,
also, that a savage and uncivilized people are more prone to be
influenced by the striking and terrific features of a religious creed,
than by its milder lessons and representations. The deity of a
barbarous race is generally a celestial warrior, who must be
propitiated with human sacrifices and libations of blood. The same
predominance of the wild and terrible, over the gentler influences of
religion, may be traced in some of the wild legends of the Middle Ages,
where the enemy of man plays so striking a part. It will scarcely
surprise us, therefore, if the terror inspired by the Evil Principle
should, among a rude, uncivilized, and illiterate race, be productive,
in time, of a species of veneration, which the mild and beneficent
character of the Author of Good had failed in inspiring.

The title of Yezidee, signifying a follower or
worshiper of Yezd,
the Good Principle, seems to assign to the people who bear it some
affinity with the ancient Persians in creed, as well as in race. The
tradition of the Mohammedans, which traces the appellation to a wicked
khalif of Damascus, may be regarded as an idle fable; but the knowledge
that such a legend existed among their sworn enemies may have suggested
to a race, not very scrupulous in practicing deception, the policy of
changing it for a name derived from' the province of Dasen, where great
numbers of them were then resident. Farther inquiries into the habits
and tenets of the Yezidees may tend to show more points of resemblance
between them and the earlier followers of the Persian heresiarch; and,
therefore, I may be hardly justified in propounding at any length that,
as a theory, which may shortly be established as a fact. I, therefore,
turn from the consideration of their doctrines, to make a few remarks
on their principal shrine and hierarchy.

The temple of Sheikh Adi is reported to have been
formerly a
Christian monastery, dedicated probably to Adaeus, or Adai, the
disciple of St. Thaddeus and his coadjutor, in effecting the conversion
of Mesopotamia. The veneration which the present Yezidees blindly pay
him is doubtless founded on a tradition dimmed and obscured by time,
but derived originally from their Manicheean or Christian ancestors.
The inscriptions contained in the temple are quite modern, nor is it
certain that the present holders have possessed it for any length of
time. Yet that their veneration for Sheikh Adi is evidently a vital
part of their creed, is testified by their annual pilgrimage to his
tomb. Nor should it be forgotten that, while the sepulchres of St.
Thomas and St. Thaddeus have been pointed out, the last resting-place
of the Apostle of Mesopotamia has hitherto remained unknown.

The priesthood of the Yezidees comprises three, or
at most four,
orders of ministers--the head sheikh, who presides over the whole body;
the peers, who occupy the second rank; the Kawals and the Fakeers, or
Guardians of the Tomb. In the Manicheean hierarchy, we find one more
grade, that of the twelve, who were supposed to represent the Apostles
of Christ. But it may be doubted whether this was intended to be of
permanent duration. Its functions may have ceased when the Manicheeans
suspended their more active missionary exertions.

Omitting this second rank or grade, we find four
orders in each
sect, of which the head Sheikh of the Yezidees will correspond to the
President or Patriarch of the Manichees, while the Peers, Kawals, and
Fakeers accord with the bishops, priests, and deacons of the Persian
heretics. The resemblance might be more fully established, if we knew
the names given by the Manichees to these grades of their hierarchy.
But the information we possess concerning Manes and his system comes
through the medium of Christian writers, who, finding a similarity
existing between the grades of the Manichee priesthood and those of the
church, accommodated the names used among themselves to express the
different orders of the former.

I have thus endeavored to point out a few features
of resemblance
between the followers of Manes and the votaries of Sheikh Adi. Whether
what has been said will satisfy others, I -know not; but,
after a most careful consideration of the state of the case, I cannot
avoid coming to the conclusion that the Yezidees are the only surviving
representatives of that widely-extended heresy which proved, in early
days, the most active and dangerous opponent of Eastern Christianity.
The open-hearted hospitality, the kindness and good humor of these poor
persecuted people, must excite a wish in the mind of the benevolent and
Christian traveler, that the lessons of a purer creed might dispel
their superstitions, and imbue them with a clear and perfect knowledge
of our divine religion.

It is greatly to be lamented, that some protection
from the
persecutions of their Kurdish and Turkish enemies cannot be obtained
for the unfortunate Yezidees. The hatred of the Mohammedans has ranked
them far below the Jews in their charitable estimate of those who
differ from themselves, and the option of the Koran or the sword, which
the latter may turn aside by the offer of tribute, remains in full
force for the unhappy Yezidee.

"They are cursed dogs, who have no revelation-
nor even a
prophet," said a Moslem to me one day, when speaking of the Yezidees;
"why should you lament over their fate? For myself, the killing of them
would be as the killing of a Wild beast."

It must, however, in candor be acknowledged that the
Yezidees have
not learnt mercy by persecution, but have treated with wanton cruelty
those of the Moslems who have fallen into their hands. They have
invariably spared the Christians; and when the massacre of the
Nestorians drove many hundreds of unhappy fugitives to Mosul, they
received shelter and protection at the tomb of Sheikh Adi.

Early in the morning, I bade adieu to the delightful
valley and its
kind inhabitants, and ascended the mountains in 'a northerly direction.
My road was steep, but surrounded with plantations of oak, whose
verdant foliage reminded me of scenes far away. I was quietly musing on
the Yezidees and their history, when my mule made a false step, and I
found myself suddenly rolling on the ground. Fortunately, we had nearly
reached the summit, and I was deposited on a heap of dry leaves, the
accumulation of many weeks. The mention of this fall might sound
somewhat strange to European readers if I did not explain its cause. I
determined to eschew the use of a saddle on leaving Bagh Sheikha, and
had latterly bestrode my coverlet only, which was balanced on the back
of the mule by a pair of saddle-bags. On this easy and comfortable seat
I had traveled for some miles,. but the late catastrophe admonished me
that some kind of girth was absolutely necessary for mountain roads. A
piece of rope, which we had brought with us, answered the purpose
tolerably well, and I reached the other side of the range without any
further accidents.

We were now again at the foot of the Gordyaean
Mountains, riding
along the edge of the plains of Nineveh, in the direction of the great
Chaldean monastery of Rabban Hormuzd. As we proceeded, Toma pointed out
the remains of seven or eight ruined villages, formerly inhabited by
Yezidees. Where were their late occupants? Murdered or captives. Far
away in exile they longed in vain, it may be, for a sight of those
distant mountains which they were never again to behold, or pictured in
the tablet of memory that fair and fertile valley, with its gently
murmuring rivulet and its holy tomb.

At length we arrived at the entrance to the winding
pass, within
which stood the convent of Rabban Hormuzd. It terminated in a wide
semicircular ravine, round which wound a steep and circuitous path. The
rain had begun to fall heavily before we accomplished the half of the
ascent, and a thick, mist-like vapor filled the hollow formed by the
semicircle of rocks. Blinded by these mists, we were obliged to remain
stationary, as the mules seemed indecisive, and we could hardly discern
our path. At length, the deep tone of the summons to prayers sounded
from the convent, the mules pricked up their ears and moved forward,
while the mist suddenly disappeared, and soon,, as if a veil
or curtain bad been gradually withdrawn, we discovered the form of the
monastery before us, and perceived a body of monks, who were issuing
forth from the great gate to meet and welcome us. The good fathers were
well acquainted with Toma, and in a few minutes I was occupying a
comfortable cave, within whose rocky walls the early Christian converts
had often, it is said, found a refuge from their pagan and Magian
persecutors.

CHAPTER XIII

Rabban Hormuzd. Ecclesiastical customs
of the Chaldeans. Language.
Extracts from the Liturgy of the Nestorians. Images. Excommunication.

THE Chaldean monastery of Rabban or Saint Hormuzd
occupies a rocky
ledge or platform, on the side of one of the mountains of the Judi
range. It is surrounded on all sides by lofty eminences, and looks over
the semicircular recess which I have alluded to in the last chapter.
The buildings connected with the establishment are arranged in no
regular order, so that much of the effect which might be produced by a
skillful and judicious grouping of the different edifices has been
neglected. Still there remains enough to make the view of the convent
and its offices an agreeable and striking prospect, when contemplated
from the entrance of the ravine. The church and the adjacent buildings
seem, as it were, to spring out of the barren side of the mountain,
their white walls. contrasting vividly with the dark ground behind.
Above, appear the signs of cultivation in the shape of several vine
plantations, which are tended by the lay brethren. A narrow and
circuitous path gives access to them, and conducts the inquisitive
traveler in a short time to the summit of the mountain.

Kas Emmanuel, the abbot, was absent from Rabban
Hormuzd, at the time
of my visit, but I received a most hospitable welcome from Brother
Antonius, the sub-prior. He was a small, spare man, on whose saturnine
features mortification, or disgust with the world, had left the traces
of melancholy and rigid self-denial. In the East, as in the West,
disappointment and misfortunes drive many to the cloister, to brood, in
solitude and silence, over sorrows, the recollection of which can
rarely be effaced.

Many of the cells of the monks are simply caves hewn
in the sides of
the mountain, on which their monastery inbuilt. One of these was
allotted to me, and I liked it so well that, when on a subsequent
visit, the worthy abbot would have offered me an apartment in his own
house, I declined the honor, and begged to be conducted again to my old
lodging.

The kindness of my monastic friends showed itself in
various little
acts of courtesy. One spread my carpet, and brought me a comfortable
pillow to recline against; another filled and arranged my pipe, from
his own tobacco-pouch; while a third, a lay-brother, assisted my
servant in kindling a fire. As it was Lent, the monks were unprovided
with meat, but I received, with much thankfulness, a bowl of red
lentiles, made into pottage, and called Ades. This is evidently the
same with the Adesh of Scripture, the word used in the original Hebrew
to signify the red pottage for which Esau sold his birthright to his
brother Jacob.23
The Ades
in question was savory in the extreme, and its odor very tempting to a
hungry man. Its taste resembled, exceedingly, that well-known luxury of
sailors, pea-soup.

A short time before my visit, the monastery had been
at-' tacked by
the Kurdish soldiers of Ismail Pasha, of Amadiyeh, who, in wanton
barbarity, tore up all the manuscripts which they could find for
cartridges, used the altars as targets, and committed various acts of
shameful indecency in the church. The monks were seized, and several of
their number severely beaten. One was suffering still, at the period of
my visit, from the tortures which had been inflicted on him. The Kurds
tried to burn the church, but their attempt was frustrated, and, after
a stay of some days, they and their valiant commander, who had treated
with such unprovoked and unmanly cruelty a few aged and helpless men,
thought proper to retreat, laden with booty, to their mountain
fortress. The outrage was passed over unpunished, for Mohammed Pasha of
Mosul was not inclined to make a formal rupture with the Kurds for the
sake of a few Christian monks.

The revenues of the monastery are supplied from the
produce of the
vineyards and other lands in the vicinity, a$ well as from the
offerings and donations of the surrounding villages, whose churches are
served by priests from Rabban Hormuzd. The monastic clergy, therefore,
do- not always remain in the convent, but each, in his turn,
resides for some time at any particular village which is indicated by
the superior. In like manner, some of our old monasteries, in former
-times, engrossed to themselves the patronage of many parishes, and
were responsible for the due performance of divine service.

Before a portion of the Nestorian community placed
themselves under
a patriarch, nominated by the Pope, and arrogated to their new sect the
distinctive title of the Chaldean church, the monks of Rabban Hormuzd
had been the most formidable opponents to Roman usurpation. Private and
personal feelings may have borne their share in the active resistance
which they offered, for an alteration, or, as they termed it, a reform,
of the monastic system had been one of the first steps contemplated by
the Italian missionaries. The monks of the older Nestorians, like those
of the primitive church, were not required to take a vow of perpetual
celibacy.24
Men who, from
motives of piety or convenience, had entered a monastery, were allowed
to quit it, to return to the world, and even to take upon themselves
connubial ties, when they found that their inclinations tended that
way; like the English fellows of colleges, the early Nestorian monks
devoted themselves to the work of education, and the cities of Mosul,
Nisibis, and Arbela were deservedly famed for, the number of learned
doctors and zealous missionaries ho had issued from the learned shades
of their monasteries. The indignant Assemani can scarcely stifle his
wrath while he records such deviations from the Monachins, sanctioned
by his church; and though he enumerates their acts of usefulness and
cultivation of learning, refuses the title of real and true monks to
such erring ecclesiastics. Of late years, however, the opposition
offered by the former inhabitants of Rabban Hormuzd to the sway of the
pope has been succeeded by passive submission to his authority and that
of the Italian missionaries. The monks are now faithful: and obedient
defenders of the rights of Rome.

I went to visit the church, which, being a mere
modern building,
possesses little to interest, or to describe. The altars were placed
Roman-wise against the wall, and a profusion of pictures and images
showed proofs of1he departure of the modern Chaldeans from the rigid
tenets of their fathers. A sarcophagus of marble, in a small chapel
attached to the church, is pointed out as the resting-place of Rabban
Hormuzd. The pages of Assemani mention two Persians of that name, one
the companion and disciple of Nestorius, and the other a Persian abbot
and martyr, who flourished before his time. The inmate of the tomb is
said to have been the latter, who, flying with his sister from the
persecution of Sapor, dwelt for many years in a cave near the spot
where he now lies buried, and occupied himself in preaching the faith
to the rude and idolatrous inhabitants of the Gordyaean mountains. His
exertions proved so far successful as to excite the rage of the bigoted
priests, who stirred up the multitude to seize the holy recluse, and
put him to a painful and lingering death.

On leaving the church, I returned to my own
apartment, which
contained, among other things, a rude altar cut in the rock, where
service was performed on certain days in the year. It is said that this
cave was in early times the receptacle of the 'neighboring Christians,
who fled thither for a refuge from their pagan persecutors, and
performed in dark ness and solitude their sacred rites. As the shades
of evening drew on, the solitary lamp which hung suspended from the
rocky ceiling cast a sad and melancholy light on the rude altar, and
the crosses, with other mystical emblems, which pious hands had graven
in the hard rock. It was both a scene and a time calculated to produce
meditation and solemn feelings, and rarely since have I felt so vividly
the luxury of solitude and its sacred inspirations.

In the morning, I visited the library, which was
also a cave in the
vicinity of my own habitation. The floor was strewn with the torn
fragments of manuscripts, and the half burned covers, which had
resisted partially the ravages of the destroyer. I am not naturally
vindictive, but the sight of this wanton and profitless outrage made me
anything but charitably disposed towards its perpetrators. One might
excuse the pillages of savage marauders, who, from their cradle, had
been accustomed to look, upon theft as a virtue; but the destruction of
that which might have enlightened and benefited thousands, to satisfy a
savage bigotry and unprovoked hatred of Christians, can find no
palliation or defence.

The monks were busily engaged in copying such of the
fragments as
were legible, on paper prepared in a peculiar manner and resembling
parchment in its appearance. The ink they used was remarkable for its
fine glossy color, which promised well for durability. They wrote.
with reeds, and, dispensing with a table or desk, rested the paper on
the knee.

The Chaldean character is difficult to form, and
renders the
movements of the transcribes necessarily slow. It is an alteration or
adaptation of the old Estrangelo or ancient Syriac letters, but differs
little from its original. It is said that formerly the Eastern and
Western Syrians used the same forms; but that the present mode of
writing the Chaldean was introduced by Joseph Huzita, who succeeded
Narses in the school of Nisibis.25

The radical structure of the Chaldean differs so
slightly from the
Aramaic or Western Syriac, that they may be considered almost as one
language. Yet there exists a marked distinction in the pronunciation of
the two. The vowel point, zakopho, which the Westerns sound like o,
the Chaldeans enunciate as a broad a. Thus, the words rendered
by, the Syrians Eloho Bro and Nuro, are
sounded by the Chaldeans Eloha Bra and Nura, a
difference sufficiently remarkable to cause some confusion in a
conversation carried on between those who follow the different modes of
pronunciation. This dissimilarity between two dialects which have
evidently the same origin seems to have been of early date. In Ezra iv.
7, we find a passage, the mysterious wording of which appears to
require the admission of this difference to interpret it aright. It is
said that, "in the days of Artaxerxes wrote Bishlam, Mithredath,
Tabeel, and the rest of their companions, unto Artaxerxes, King of
Persia, and the writing of the letter was written in the Syrian tongue
and interpreted in the Syrian tongue."

The apparent tautology of the above is explained by
the supposition
that the characters of the epistle were those common to Eastern and
Western Syria, while the words were read before the king, and explained
to him according to the pronunciation of the Assyrians and Chaldeans,
who both seem to have used one language similar in substance to that
employed in the offices of the Chaldean Church, and entitled the
Chaldee or Chaldaic.

Besides the pure and elegant idiom in which the
services and
theological treatises of the Chaldeans are written, there is a kind of
vulgar patois spoken by the Christian villagers around Mosul,
and by the Nestorians of the Tiyari mountains. It is called Fellahi,or the laborer's dialect, and hears the same relation to the
ancient language that the modern Romaic does to the Hellenic. Among
themselves, the Christians of the plains constantly use this jargon in
preference to Arabic, which they consider of infidel origin; and the
ordinary Nestorians know no other medium of communication, except when
they have dealings with the Kurds, at which times the necessary
conversation is carried on in Kurdish. I have been told in Mosul that
the dialect of the mountain Nestorians approaches nearer to the written
language, and is of a more grammatical and elevated character, than
that spoken by the Chaldeans of the plains. The Ecclesiastics use both
the literary and colloquial dialects in conversation, though some of
them are not very well acquainted with the former.

During my residence in the monastery, I frequently
attended the
services performed by the monks, and gained from them much information
respecting the forms and ceremonies of the Chaldean church. Their
chants, though generally harsh and unmusical to a European ear,
sometimes exhibited tones of a plaintive, and mournful character that
were not unpleasing. Unlike the generality of Eastern singers, who seem
unaccountably to confound shouting with devotion, the recitative of the
monks of Rabban Hormuzd was of a more quiet and dignified kind.

I am no admirer in general of the doings of the
Church of Rome in
these parts, but I cannot in candor refuse to the Italian instructors
of the Chaldeans the praise of having introduced some beneficial
improvements. The interior of the church was neat and clean, unlike the
generality of Oriental temples, where the dirt and odor would be
insupportable, were not the latter dispelled in some measure by the
constant use of incense. In the church of Rabban Hormuzd, the operation
of Western taste was seen in the absence of the tawdry finery and
puerile decorations which disfigure most of the Eastern houses of
prayer. It would have been better, perhaps, if this taste had suggested
also the removal of sundry wax-dolls, intended to represent the blessed
Virgin and other saints, but which tended, in my judgment at least, to
degrade and debase a sacred edifice to-the level of a baby-house.

The Chaldean Church has always regarded with
peculiar veneration the
rite of ordination, which, by many writers, has even been described as
a sacrament. Ebedjesus of Soba, in his Nomo-canon, after enumerating
the three grades of bishop, priest, and deacon, proceeds to subdivide
each, and to distinguish them as follows: The first grade embraces the
simple bishop, whose labors are restricted to the care of a single
diocese; the metropolitan, who rules over a certain number of bishops,
and the catholicos or patriarch, who was looked up to as the visible
head of the whole church. Under the priestly grade are ranked the
simple presbyter, the periodeuta, whose functions resembled those of
the ancient chorepiscopos; and the archdeacon, whose rank and duties
correspond with those of a similar dignitary in our own church. The
third and lowest order embraced the deacons, whose office it is to read
the Gospel, to minister the cup, and to assist the priest in the
celebration of the eucharist; the hypodiaconos, or subdeacon, and the
reader, who recited or chanted the lessons in the daily service. The
title of patriarch was first assumed by the catholicos of the
Nestorians, when the latter withdrew themselves from the jurisdiction
of Antioch, after the council of Ephesus, held in A. D. 431.

Many alterations and omissions have taken place in
the Nestorian or
Chaldean hierarchy since the days of the writer quoted above. The
Romanist Chaldeans still retain, at present, the nine grades of
ecclesiastics; although, in some places, a slight change has been
introduced by the Italian missionaries. Among the independent
Nestorians, however, one sole bishop and the patriarch are the only
representatives in The Tiyari of the episcopal order. While be-resided
at Mosul, Mar Shimon frequently expressed his sorrow at this fact, and
also his determination to consecrate three other bishops as soon as the
troubles brought upon him by the Kurdish invasion were at an end.

In former days, all the Nestorian ecclesiastics,
including even the
bishops and the catholicos were allowed to marry; nor was it considered
necessary, as in other Oriental churches, to refuse, orders to a person
who had been united to two wives in succession.26
A somewhat curiously worded canon prescribes the number of times that a
priest or deacon may enter into the married state, and fixes the
ultimatum at seven and a half, with an explanatory remark that the
half-wife is to be considered as referring to a widow, while the other
seven are to be virgins.27
By the Levitical law, onwhich most of the early canons were
founded, it is commanded that a priest shall marry a virgin only, and
the same injunction strictly forbids him to contract any alliance with
a widow or divorced woman.28
The above rule, however, seems to consider the marriage of an
ecclesiastic with a widow as lawful, though, from the circumstances
under which it wasallowed, such a union could seldom take
place. The patriarch Marabas was the first who introduced a law that
the bishops and catholicos should remain single, yet the marriage of
the clergy is acknowledged by Assemani to have been a custom
transmitted from the earliest prelates of the Nestorian Church.29

The sacrament of baptism-should, according to the
ritual, be
preceded by the anointing of the neophyte, and his solemn reception by
the church as a catechumen. In the baptism of children, however, the
introductory ceremonies are omitted., and the child is at once immersed
three times, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy
Ghost. The godfather then stands before the entrance to the sanctuary
with the infant in his arms, while the priest anoints the forehead with
consecrated oil, making upon it the sign of the cross. A white garment
is thrown over the newly baptized, and a drop of consecrated wine is
given to it from the chalice, a remnant, doubtless, of the old practice
of administering the eucharist to children. The anointing after baptism
is considered equivalent to our rite of confirmation, and may be
performed by a priest, though the oil itself must be consecrated by
a bishop. Some of the earlier Nestorians are said to have joined the
rite of circumcision to the Christian sacrament of baptism.30

Several of the early Nestorian writers mention an_
ingredient which
they term the leaven of the holy oil and of the eucharist, the history
of which is thus related by two writers cited in Assemani:-

When our Lord Jesus was baptized in Jordan by St.
John the Baptist,
the latter received the waters flowing from his sacredbody
in a vessel, which he carefully preserved till the day of his
martyrdom, when he gave it over to the keeping of his disciple, St.
John the Evangelist. At the Last Supper, per Lord presented a double
portion of bread to the latter apostle, who carefully put by a part of
it and laid it up together with the vessel of water. During the
crucifixion, St. John sedulously collected the drops of blood which
flowed from the pierced side of the Redeemer, and mingled them with the
water and the bread.

This mixture or leaven was afterwards divided by the
apostles among
themselves, and was delivered by St. Thomas to Adaeus, the Apostle of
Mesopotamia and Assyria, from whom it has descended to the Patriarchs
of Seleucia, the pontiffs of the Nestorians. It is but fair to observe
that the above legend seems to have been received by a few writers
only, and does not appear to be generally credited now.

The bread intended for the Holy Communion, which the
Nestorians, in
common with other Orientals, term the Consecration, and the Unbloody
Sacrifice, is ordered by the canons to be made and prepared within the
precincts of the church itself.

"Let the priest," says an old canon, "take to him
fine flour, with
salt, olive oil, and three drops of water, and let him mix it, using at
the time certain appointed prayers. Let him do this on a table adorned
or prepared for that purpose, find after the Gospel is read, let it be
sprinkled with old leaven." This canon, according to Assemani, goes on
to refer to the leaven handed down from Adaeus, as mentioned in the
legend quoted above, but I have omitted this part, because I neither
saw nor heard any reference made to it during the making of the bread
of which I was an eyewitness at Mosul. In another place, Assemani seems
to speak of the legend as now obsolete, but the former part of the
canon is to this day observed. The loaf thus prepared is placed upon
the altar after the reading of the Gospel.

The majority of Nestorian writers acknowledge only
three daily
canonical hours of worship founded, as they say, on Scriptural
authority. The offering of the lambs, every morning and evening,
enjoined by the Levitical law, typifies the morning and evening hours
of prayer, while the words of David, "At midnight I will rise to give
thanks to thee,"31
warrant the appointment of a night service. The later Nestorians,
however, only observe, as far as the laity are concerned, the morning
and evening hours. The clergy make it a rule at present to recite the
Psalter twice a week, repeating fifty psalms at each nocturn or night
office, and the days on which they usually assemble in church for this
purpose are Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays. On the Saturday night,
which they designate by the Jewish title of the preparation," they
recite half the Psalter, and sometimes the whole on solemn occasions.

The eucharist, or Liturgy, is always begun at
daybreak. The priest
puts on a kind of surplice, in which he recites the preparatory
prayers; over this is thrown, at the commencement of the Anaphora or
canon, a garment resembling nearly in shape the Roman chasuble, which
should be richly embroidered, and marked with a cross at the back. The
priest wears a thin strip of embroidered cloth round his neck, disposed
like the black scarf worn in our church, but crossed over the breast
instead of hanging down, and fastened at the waist with a girdle. The
altar on which the elements are placed can only be used once a-day, and
must be furnished with a cross and two lights.

Having put on his vestments, the Liturgy begins with
the anthem "
Glory be to God in the Highest," followed by the Lord's Prayer. Various
supplications succeed, after which, the priest kisses the book of the
Gospels on the altar, and the deacons exclaim to the people " Bow down
your heads." This is followed by other prayers, after. which
the priest and deacons mount the steps of the altar and arrange it for
the reception and celebration of the sacred mysteries.

As so little is known respecting the service of the
Nestorians, and
their mode of conducting their worship, it may interest my readers to
see a few extracts from the Liturgy most commonly used by them on
Sundays and festivals days,. which is called the Liturgy of the
Apostles; not from the twelve, but from Adieus and Mares, the disciples
of St. Thomas, who first preached the doctrines of Christianity in
Assyria. It is entitled " The Liturgy of the Blessed Apostles, composed
by St. Adaeus and St. Mares, the Doctors or Instructors of the
Easterns;" and commences with the following rubric:--

The priest approaches to celebrate, and bows
himself thrice
before the altar, the middle part of which he kisses first, then the
right and left extremities, and inclines himself towards the upper part.32 Afterwards he
shall say:--

Bless, O Lord. Pray for me,. my lords, fathers, and
brethren, that
God may give me power and ability to perform in a suitable manner this
ministry, to which I have approached and have entered upon, and that He
may receive this oblation at the hands of my unworthiness (which is
offered) for me, for you,. and for the whole body of the Holy Catholic
Church, according to his grace and compassion. Amen.

The people shall answer. May Christ hear thy
prayers, and
graciously accept thy sacrifice, and receive thy oblation, honoring thy
priesthood, and may He grant to us, through thy mediation, the pardon
of our faults, and the remission of our sins, through his infinite
grace and compassion.

Then the priest shall bow himself towards the
lower part of the
altar, and shallsay::--

May God, the Lord of all, be with each of us
according to his
infinite grace and mercy. Amen.

Bowing to the deacon., who stands at his left
hand, he shall
say:--

May God, the Lord of all, confirm thy words, and
grant to thee
peace, and receive this oblation from my hands for me; and for thee,
and for the whole body of the Holy Catholic Church, and for the whole
world, through his infinite grace and compassion. Amen.

After some prayers said secretly and in an inaudible
tone by the
priest, the deacon says:

Be watchful and attentive. (The priest then
rises and uncovers
the elements, taking of the veil with which they were covered. He
blesses the incense, and says with a loud voice:)

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of
God the Father,
and the communion of the Holy Ghost, be with us all now and for ever.

The people answer. Amen.

Priest. Let your minds be lifted up.

People. They are lifted up to thee, O God of
Abraham, and
Isaac, and the, glorious King of Israel.

Priest. Let an oblation be offered to God,
the Lord of all.

People. It is worthy and right.

Deacon. Peace be with us.

Priest. The adorable and glorious Name of
the Father, Son,
and Holy, Spirit, which created the world through his grace, and its
inhabitants through his clemency, which hath saved mankind through his
mercy, and hath shown great grace to mortals, is worthy of glory from
every mouth-of confession from every tongue-and of exaltation by all
creatures. Thousands of thousands of the celestial ones bless and adore
thy majesty, O Lord; and tens of thousands of myriads of holy angels,
the armies of the spiritual world, with the holy cherubim and the
spiritual seraphim, sanctify and celebrate thy name, continually
proclaiming and praising thee, and with never ceasing voice exclaiming
one to the other.

The people with a loud voice. Holy, holy,
holy Lord God
Almighty, heaven and earth are full of His glory.

The priest in a low tone. O Lord and
mighty God,
receive this oblation which we offer to thee for the whole of the Holy
Catholic Church, and for all our pious and righteous fathers who have
pleased thee, for all prophets and apostles, for all martyrs and
confessors, for all that mourn, for the sick and the afflicted, for
those who suffer any need or vexation, for all the weak and oppressed,
for all the departed, who, being separated from us, have journeyed
hence to another region, as well as for all who have requested the
prayers of our in and for me a humble and powerless sinner. O Lord our
God, according to thy compassion and the multitude of thy grace, look
upon thy people, and upon me, a weak one, not according to my sins and
my follies, but (grant) that all may be worthy to obtain the remission
of sins through this holy body, which they receive with faith by the
grace of thy mercy. Amen.

Then the priest shall say this prayer secretly. But
thou, O
Lord, for the sake of thy many and unspeakable mercies, remember for
good all those of our fathers who were pious and just, and who pleased
thee in the commemoration of the body and blood of thy Christ, which we
offer on thy pure and holy-altar even as thou hast taught us, and grant
us thy peace all the days of this life.

He continues. O Lord our God, grant us thy
peace and
tranquillity all the days of this life, that all the dwellers upon
earth may know thee: for thou art God alone, even the true Father, and
thou hast sent our Lord Jesus Christ, thy son and thy beloved one; and
He, our Lord and, God, came and taught us all purity and holiness.
Remember the prophets, apostles, martyrs, confessors, bishops, doctors,
priests, deacons, and all the children of the Holy Catholic Church, who
have been signed with the sign of life, even holy baptism. We also, thy
humble, weak, and ignorant servants, who have met together in thy name,
now stand before thee, and receive with joy the form which is from
thee-praising, glorifying, and exalting thee. We commemorate and
celebrate this ' great and tremendous, holy and divine mystery of the
passion, death, burial, and resurrection of our Lord and Saviour Jesus
Christ.

O Lord, may thy Holy Spirit come and rest upon this
oblation which
thy servants have offered, to bless and sanctify it, that it may be to
us, O Lord, for a propitiation of our faults and for the remission of
our sins, and (may it produce) a strong hope for the resurrection of
the dead, and a new life in the kingdom of heaven with all those who
have been well pleasing in thy sight: we, therefore, will ever praise
and glorify thee in thy church, redeemed by the precious blood of thy
Christ, on account of thy universal and wonderful dealings with us,
with open mouths and a joyful countenance, offering thee a hymn of
praise, and giving honor and adoration to thy holy, living, and
vivifying name, now and for ever.

The priest signs the mysteries with the cross,
and the people
answer Amen.

The priest bows himself, and kisses the altar,
first in the
middle, then at the two sides, and says the following prayer:--

O Christ, the peace of the upper and the great
tranquillity of the
lower ones, grant that thy peace and tranquillity may dwell in the four
parts of the world, but chiefly in the Holy Catholic Church. Grant that
the priesthood and the government may have peace. Make wars to cease in
all the corners of the earth, and scatter the people who delight in
war, that we may lead a quiet and peaceful life, in all temperance and
in the fear of God. Have mercy on the sins and transgressions of the
departed, for, the sake of thy mercy and tender compassion.

Then shall he say to those who are about the
altar: Bless
the Lord: Bless the Lord.

And he shall put on incense, with which he shall
perfume himself,
and shall say: O Lord our God, make pleasing the odor of our
souls, through the suavity of thy love, and by it cleanse me from the
defilements of sin, and pardon my faults and transgressions-both those
which I know and those which I know not.

He again takes the incense vessel in both hands,
and incensing
the mysteries (elements) he says:--

May the clemency of thy grace, O Lord our God, grant
us.
access to these fair, holy, vivifying, and divine mysteries, unworthy
as we are to partake of them.

The priest repeats these words once and again,
and during each
interval joins his hands upon his breast in the form of a cross.-
He then kisses the altar in the midst, and, taking in both hands the
oblation, he lifts it up and says:--

Praise be to thy holy name, O Lord Jesus Christ, and
let thy majesty
be adored for ever and ever. Amen. For He is the living bread and the
life-giving one who descended from heaven, and giveth life to the whole
world; and those who eat Him shall not die, and those who receive Him
shall be saved through Him, nor shall they feel corruption, but shall
live by Him through all eternity. For thou art the antidote of our
mortality, and the resurrection of our clay.

Breaking the bread with both hands, he shall say:
We
approach, O Lord, with true faith, and we break with giving of thanks,
and we sign through thy mercy the body and blood of our life-giver
Jesus Christ. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the
Holy Ghost.

And while he is naming the Trinity, he breaks'
the bread, which
he holds in his hands, and separating it into two parts, he places the
piece in his left hand on the paten, and signing the cup with the
portion held in the right hand, he say:--

The precious blood is signed with the holy body of
our Lord Jesus
Christ. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy
Ghost.

After the consecration has taken place, a priest
and. deacon take up
their stations at the entrance of the sanctuary, the former holding the
paten with the consecrated bread, while the latter takes the
cup or chalice. After the clergy have communicated, the people approach
one by one, the men preceding the women. A vessel filled with incense
is placed near the door of the sanctuary, and as the people walk by it
they each pass their hands through the smoke, a kind of symbolical
purification for the solemn act which they are about to perform.

The bread is received in the palm of the right hand,
placed
crosswise over the left, and the cup never leaves the hands of the
deacon, who holds it to the lips of each communicant, wiping his mouth
afterwards with an embroidered cloth. It is customary to administer the
eucharist to children, several of whom I observed among the
communicants at Mosul.

The rites of the Romish Chaldeans differ little
externally from
those of their independent brethren. By both, Divine service is
solemnized in the ancient Chaldean language; but the Roman missionaries
have inserted into the missal, used by the -former, several
lines favorable to the doctrine of transubstantiation,34 and have
introduced the
custom of paying adoration to the consecrated bread. In all other
particulars, the service remains the same, and many of the TiyariNestorians
who had been induced to attend the worship of the Romish Chaldeans,
found scarcely any difference between it and their own. They, however,
objected strongly to the pictures. and images which, by degrees, had
crept into the churches of Mosul and the neighboring villages.

Auricular confession is practiced among the Romish
Chaldeans, but is
considered unnecessary by the Nestorians. Yet Ebedjesus, one of their
earliest writers, teaches that the penitent should go to the priest's
house, and there make a special confession of his sins in order to
obtain absolution, citing, in proof, the text, "Whosesoever sins ye
remit, they are remitted unto them; and whosesoever sins ye retain,
they, are retained."35
According to Assemani, John Sulaka, who was the first patriarch of the
Romish Chaldeans, accused Simon Barmama of having abolished this
practice in the Nestorian Church.36
Some time after, Joseph II. reproached the Independent Nestorians with
their neglect of this rite.

The aversion of the Tiyari people to the use of
pictures is very
strong, and they found it upon a literal interpretation of the second
Commandment. One of them was much scandalized at finding a small print
of the queen hung up in my room at Mosul. It was in vain, I observed,
that a private apartment was not a church, nor the portrait of an
English sovereign an object of worship. My Nestorian friend insisted,
with some plausibility, that the Commandment prohibited the making of a
graven image, or the likeness of anything, as well as the adoration of
it, and seemed by no means satisfied with my excuses.

Excommunication is seldom resorted to among the
Nestorians, though
very much dreaded when put in force. The person denounced is deprived
of civil as well as ecclesiastical privileges, and is considered as
lying under the curse of God. Even his nearest relatives shun him, and
will hold no communication with him. No one may buy or sell with the
offender as long as he remains under the ban. In short, it is
considered so fearful a doom that it is only inflicted for great and
grievous offences. The Nestorian patriarchs, indeed, seem to use their
unlimited authority in a mild and paternal manner. The Chaldean bishops
of the plains, however, have made such frequent and unsparing
application of the thunders of the church that their flocks begin to
lose their respect for the once dreaded denunciations. Yet, even in
Mosul, an excommunicated person is generally shunned and avoided.

CHAPTER XIV

Elkosh. Tomb of Nahum. A Chaldean's
account of the Reformation.
American traveler. Monastery of St. George. The locusts. An Oriental
view of antiquities.

AFTER a stay of two days at Rabban Hormuzd, I took
leave of the
hospitable monks, and descended to the city of Elkosh, which is distant
about two miles from the convent. It was formerly one of the most
populous towns in these regions, but is now almost a heap of ruins.
From its proximity to the mountains, it, has been particularly exposed
to the ravages of the Kurds.

I felt much interested in this place, from the fact
that it contains
the tomb of the Prophet Nahum, who is termed, in Scripture, the
Elkoshite and who prophesied, in such striking and terrific language,
the downfall of the proud metropolis of the Assyrian kings. The prophet
was probably one of the numerous captives carried away by Shalmanaser,
who invaded and ravaged Palestine about B. C. 721. The allusions made
in Nahum i. 4 seem to justify a belief that the seer was of mature age
before he quitted the land of his fathers. If we follow the Scripture
chronology, the prophecy of the fall of Nineveh was uttered about eight
years after the date of the invasion, and the event must shortly have
succeeded to the prediction. Nahum probably lived to witness, with his
own eyes, the ruin of the "bloody city."

The tomb of the Prophet is within a mean edifice,
consisting of two
small chambers. It was covered with a piece of ragged and filthy green
baize, on which was lying a manuscript roll, containing the Book of
Nahum, in Hebrew. As I lifted it up, to examine it more closely, a
large beetle crept from beneath, and hurried across the baize at a
rapid pace. The tomb is much respected by the Jews, who make annual
pilgrimages to it; and it is, also, held in great esteem by the
Christians.

The present city can scarcely contain buildings
older than the time
of the Mohammedan conquest, although, if the assumption be correct that
it was the residence of Nahum, its predecessor must have been coeval
with Nineveh. It seems to have been the practice of the Arab invaders
to restore or to retain the ancient appellations of cities, contrary to
the practice of the Greeks, who were fond of inventing new names for
the subjugated towns and districts. The Hellenic titles, however, had a
less familiar sound to the ear of an Arab than the old Chaldean or
Syrian appellations. The retention of the latter tends to make the
identification of ancient and modern places more easy.

I lodged, at Elkosh, in the house of the head man of
the Chaldean
Christians, a silent and sententious individual, who spoke little, and
smoked much. However, I was not doomed to endure the burden of silence
very long, for numbers of the Elkoshites, hearing that a Frank had
arrived, came to smoke and talk in my room. Some of these were
merchants, who were engaged in the gall nut trade, a production found
in abundance among the neighboring mountains. As my visitors were
generally Christians, the conversation turned principally on
theological matters.

They had, like the people of Bagh Sheikha, a poor
opinion of the
English. I was often called upon to defend our nation from the charges
of polygamy and atheism. They were dreadfully scandalized at our
refusing to acknowledge the authority of the Pope, and one gentleman
asked me seriously, and with an air of great concern, whether I ever
said my prayers! On one occasion, a large party had assembled, among
whom was a merchant, recently arrived from Aleppo. In, the course of
conversation, he began to attack the English.

"The Ingleez," he said, "are a very fierce and
intractable nation.
They marry many wives, and care very little about Allah, whose name be
exalted."

I here interrupted the speaker, and asked if, in the
course of his
travels, he had ever heard of the English Church.

"Belli, yes," he answered, "I know the whole history
of your church.
You must understand," continued he, turning to the rest, "that once
there lived in England a great sultan whose name was Napoleon
Bonaparte. This sultan was like unto Antar and Iskander, the
Macedonian, and he made many of the kings of Frangistan his footstool.
But his heart was lifted up, and he defied Allah in his pride. And
Napoleon's wife was old, and she was no longer pleasing in his eyes.
Then it came to pass that he looked upon a certain fair damsel with the
glances of love, and he said, 'Inshallah, I will divorce my wife and
get me this fair one in marriage. Now, the Ingleez were all Catholics
then, and, therefore, Napoleon sent a message to our father the pope,
desiring that he would grant him a divorce. But the pope reproved
Napoleon for his pride and unkind dealing, with his wife, at which the
sultan waxed wrath, and said, 'Surely, this pope is no better than Abou
Jahash, even the Father of Stupidity; but, Inshallah, I will make him
eat abomination.' So he went with many soldiers and besieged Rome, and
took the pope prisoner, and shut him up in a great tower in London,
which is the chief city of the Ingleez. But the kings of the Franks all
joined together, and made war upon Napoleon Bonaparte, and overcame
him. Then their soldiers came to London and set the pope at liberty.
And when the pope returned to Rome, he cursed Napoleon, and
excommunicated him and all the Ingleez. But Napoleon laughed at his
beard, and he said, 'Inshallah, but I will have a church of my own.' So
he made bishops, and they divorced his wife, and they married him to
the beautiful damsel, after which he founded the English Church."

All the assembly were deeply penetrated and
impressed with this
narrative, which was delivered with great volubility and lively
pantomimic action. I had but little chance of being attended to in my
vindication of my country and its religion, for, say what I would, the
audience shook their heads doubtfully, and departed full of admiration
at the wisdom of the Aleppo merchant, and regarding the English Church
as the profane invention of that second Nimrod, Napoleon Bonaparte.

The Aleppo merchant had probably heard some mangled
account of Henry
the Eighth and Anne Boleyn, while his lively imagination, or the
suggestions of some Roman missionary, had supplied the rest. The
reputation which Napoleon has acquired in the East would account for
his being the hero of the story, more particularly as Orientals are not
very exact in their notions of countries and dates. Even the
chronology, of their own land they know little about, and all time past
is divided into two epochs, the period before Mohammed and that which
has elapsed since.

Yet, when I came to reflect upon the tale of the
worthy Elkoshite,
the feelings of contempt for his ignorance were checked by the
recollection that few persons in England were much better acquainted
with the East, its manners, religion, and history, than the Oriental
was with the nature of the Reformation. How often since have I heard
well informed persons inquire whether there were any Christians in the
East, and express surprise on hearing of the Oriental churches. The
Nestorians have, of late, excited a little attention; but the great
mass of sympathizers with them know nothing of their history, except
that they are a sort of Asiatic Protestants, who read their Bibles and
abominate the pope.

Once, an American traveler was journeying to Aleppo
in company with
an active and intelligent Greek, whose services he had secured at
Beyrout. One day, as they halted under some trees, and had spread their
carpets for the night's repose, the traveler commenced a long discourse
on the excellencies of the New Testament, which contained, he said, the
life of Jesus Christ. The Greek listened for some time in astonishment
as the loquacious native of the West detailed, with much
self-satisfaction, the events of the Gospel narrative; but when the
latter drew forth, with an air of importance, a small copy of the
Testament and presented it to him as a book which he had never seen or,
heard of before, he lost all patience, and said, "Kyrie, my nation
received that book from the hands of the apostles themselves, and you
are indebted to us for it. Have I heard of it, say you? Why, I know the
greater part by heart, and I tell you candidly, Kyrie, that with us,
as, perhaps, with you, the difficulty is, not to know what the Gospel
says, but to practice what it teaches."

I left Elkosh next day upon a most obstinate and
perverse mule, who
seemed most disinclined to carry peaceably a disciple of the wicked
Napoleon Bonaparte. Once he slipped as we were ascending a steep hill,
and laid me flat upon my back, which feat having accomplished to his
satisfaction, doubtless, he stood contemplating me with an air that
seemed to say, "It has served you right, you heretic." I mounted again,
and was soon after deposited in a heap of soft mud, close to the door
of a worthy Chaldean priest, who came forth, with many exclamations of
surprise and sympathy, to rescue me from my uncomfortable couch. He had
been educated at the Propaganda College, and spoke Italian fluently.
Finding that my clothes still retained many traces of my two falls, he
proposed that I should step into his house, and get myself dried and
cleansed. I complied with this welcome invitation, and was soon seated
at the good presbyter's hospitable board, discussing some fried eggs
and a bottle of village wine.

The deportment of my new friend displayed a polish
and refinement
which formed rather a pleasing contrast to the rude and coarse conduct
of the savages of Elkosh, who, I believe, are noted for their Kurdish
manners. He spoke of Rome with a feeling of regret, though he told me
he never felt himself quite at home there. He disliked the Italian cuisine
and the Frank dress, and complained that he" could seldomenjoy
the luxury of smoking. Some ecclesiastical business had led him as far
as Paris, but his Eastern gravity did not accord with the gayety of the
French, whom he termed the Fathers of motion. Of the English he had
heard but little, and that little was to their disadvantage. He
considered them evidently as people without a faith, as the Mohammedans
of the West.

The house of my worthy host was situated near a
village called Tell
Eskof, to the north of which he informed me was a larger town or
village inhabited chiefly by Yezidees, and called Haterah. The Syrian
geographers consider it to be identical with the Calah of Genesis.
Eastward of Tell Eskof is another village called Kas-el-ain, or the
head of the spring, from a small rivulet which takes its rise near it,
and empties itself into the Tigris, to the north of the mound of
Kuyunjik. Admitting the latter to have formed part of Nineveh, this
stream probably flowed through the city. In Nahum ii. 6, there is an
allusion to the gates of the rivers, which seems to indicate that,
besides the Tigris, there were other streams which either passed
through Nineveh itself, or glided along at the foot of its walls.

From Tell Eskof, I rode on till we arrived at the
ruined monastery
of St. George, not far from the eastern bank of the Tigris. It bad been
for some months untenanted, save by a single monk, who received me at
the gate, and recommended ins to spread my carpet on the floor of a
room adjoining the church. The latter contained little that was either
interesting or curious. Over the altar was a grim portrait of St.
George, slaying a ferocious dragon, that was breathing forth flames
from mouth and nostrils, and emitting fountains of blood from various
ghastly wounds, any one of which might have deprived an ordinary dragon
of life.

The old monk was courteous and communicative. He
showed me his books
and his priestly garments, which were rather tarnished by frequent
wear. At the west end of the church was a kind of gallery, fronting the
altar, in which were two desks similar to those that in most Eastern
churches are placed in the choir. I asked the reason of this, but could
get no satisfactory explanation of the seeming anomaly.

In the course of the afternoon, a Mohammedan from
the neighboring
village came in, and seemed to be on very friendly terms with the monk.
Both were loud in the praises of St. George, who was feared, they said,
even by the Kurds, whom he had restrained on several occasions from
burning the monastery. On the eve of his festival, the belligerent
saint crosses the Tigris. from Mosul, in company with Khudder Elias,
both mounted on white horses, and armed cap d pie. They scour the plain
of Nineveh till daybreak, and woe to him who meets them in their
nocturnal ride. I asked the Mohammedan some particulars respecting
Khudder Elias, but he only knew that he was a great prophet, and was
buried at Mosul. An Arabian geographer mentions that the tomb of the
Prophet George stands in the midst of Mosul, and it is probable that he
alludes to the great mosque, which the tradition of the inhabitants
represents as having been formerly a Christian church. It is likely
that the old Nestorian cathedral of the modern Nineveh was dedicated to
St. George, and hence the legends respecting him which are so plentiful
in the vicinity.

During the evening, three other Mohammedans came in,
one of whom was
the mollah of the village. They began to talk very loudly against the
tyranny and oppression of Mohammed Pasha, who had lately imposed some
rather heavy taxes on their village. The following colloquy ensued
between us.

Mollah.ù"When are your people coming to take
the country?"

Myself.ù"I can hardly tell you, seeing,
that, to
the best of my knowledge, they have no intention of doing anything of
the kind. But tell me, O mollah, you who are a servant of the prophet
and a priest of his religion, why should you wish that the Franks and
Christians might bear rule over you?"

Mollah.--"Kowajah,37
God is great, and knows all things. If it be His will that we should
become Christians, or that Islam should fall, He can bring it to pass,
whether we desire the change or no. Why, then, should we be anxious for
the future destiny of religion when the exalted One takes care of it?
We are blind, and know nothing."

Another.--"I have heard say our mosques were once
Christian
churches, and, Allah knows, they maybe so again. Anything, however, is
better than the tyranny of this dog of a pasha. May he sleep in
Gehennam!"

Mollah.--"Mohammed Pasha is, in one respect, a just
man; he robs
Jews, Christians, and Moslem alike. A year ago, he sent for a student
of my acquaintance, a humble and holy man. 'Oh, man,' said he, 'it
grieves me to hear that you are behind with the salian.' 'I am poor, O
pasha,' was the reply, 'and my patrimony is small. My crop, also, has
not been prospered by Allah, and the Kurds have carried off several of
my sheep.' The pasha grew wroth like a sheitan as he is, and
interrupting the student he roared out, 'You dog, you unclean, pay you
shall, or the bastinado shall compel you.' So the poor man returned
home in great fear, and he had to sell his books to meet the demand.
Shall such a Moslem as this go to Paradise? Shall he not rather be
thrust down to the lowest pit of Gehennam, even below the accursed
Jews?"

Myself.--"But the Cadi and Mufti of Mosul; surely
they are, or ought
to be, good Mussulmen; can they not help you, or moderate the tyranny
of the pasha?"

Mollah.--"Kowajah, the pasha is a drunken infidel;
and as for the
cadi and mufti, they, excellent men, are worse than he!"

I was somewhat surprised to hear sentiments like
these uttered by
Mohammedans so near the residence of the dreaded pasha. Bad as the
Turks are, however, they have not imitated the evil example of certain
more civilized and Christian governments. The movements of the
oppressed are at least free, nor are his words watched by some lurking
spy and made a matter of accusation against him.

I remember on one occasion a butcher was condemned
to have his ear
nailed to his own door-post. The sentence was executed with small
consideration for the feelings of the sufferer, who, however,
indemnified himself by heaping a torrent of abuse on the cadi, mufti,
and the pasha himself. No notice was taken of what he said; but when
the term of his sentence had expired, he was released, and allowed to
depart unmolested. Perhaps, however, when the Turks become a little
more civilized, they will adopt the system of espionage, with some
other European improvements which they lack at present.

From the monastery we repaired the next morning to
the bank of the
Tigris, where we embarked in one of the clumsy ferry-boats, and after a
passage which lasted a full hour at least, we arrived in safety at the
eastern entrance of Mosul. A peasant from one of the villages had
preferred the ancient mode of transit. Inflating two bags of skin which
he carried in his band, he supported himself upon them, and with his
feet propelled himself across the river. Oppressed by the heat of the
mid-day sun, and tired of the dilatory movement of the vessel, I almost
envied him his cool and refreshing bath.

Soon after my return, I was standing on my terrace
when my attention
was attracted by what seemed to be a moving cloud. A dark compact body
of insects came floating along from the west, while here and there a
straggler lingered behind the others, and, after vain attempts to join
the main column, fell exhausted on the terrace before me. I took up one
of these in my band, and was soon watching, with mingled curiosity and
compassion, the last moments of an expiring locust. Despite their
destructive qualities, I could not help pitying the poor weary insect,
who, after a flight of so many miles, was doomed to sink down with the
land of plenty before his eyes. A few minutes longer and he would have
been banqueting with his more fortunate brethren on the olive trees of
Bagh Sheikba, or the corn-fields of old Nineveh. I placed a drop or two
of water in the palm of my hand;., he seemed to drink eagerly of the
refreshing element; but. his brief span of life was closing, and I laid
him down to die.

As the locusts proceeded, great numbers of them fell
and covered the
terraces of the city in heaps. Their color was a darkish yellow, and
they were about an inch and a half in length. Their whole appearance
resembled very much that of a grasshopper.

The last straggler had crossed the Tigris, and the
people around all
appeared on the neighboring terraces furnished with large baskets, into
which they threw whole heaps of the dead and dying insects. I was not
sorry to get rid of them, on account of the stench which arose from
their rapidly decaying bodies. The putrefaction of unburied locusts is
said to have been the cause of plague in various parts of -Asiatic
Turkey. Their ravages are much dreaded, for they leave all the trees
quite bare, stripping off even the hardest bark. I have heard that on
some occasions they have entered houses in a body, and consumed
everything that they, could find.

My knowledge of Arabic was now progressing, and I
was able to
understand and converse with most of the numerous visitors who made
calls upon me. Among those was an old Mohammedan merchant, whose quiet
habits I liked, and whose visits were seldom protracted to any length
of time. My friend Mohammed was a widower, and had two sons, very fine
lads, whom he was proud of characterizing as two of the greatest
sheitans in Mosul. The old gentleman loved stories to distraction, and
often importuned me to relate what I had seen in my travels. He himself
had smoked and dosed away fifty years in Mosul, during which time he
had never been outside either of the gates. Sometimes two or three of
his friends would accompany him. They were a silent race, devoted to
their pipes and coffee, and knowing or caring little about anything
exterior to their own little world.

When I mentioned to Mohammed the excavations of
Khoorsabad, he
ruminated for a moment, and then asked me, in a confidential tone, how
much gold the French Balios38
had discovered. When I told him that M. Botta neither sought for, nor
expected, anything more valuable than some ancient sculptures, my
worthy old friend looked grievously disappointed, and, after a few
thoughtful puffs, said:

"I have often been astonished, O Yacoub, that a
people, so wise and
intelligent as it must be admitted the Franks generally are, should
take such delight in old stones. Praise be to God, I know nothing of
Nimroud and Athoor that you have been telling me of, except that one of
them put our Father Ibraheem, upon whom be peace, into a great furnace,
from which he miraculously escaped. They were both Kafirs, and have
doubtless been roasting in Gehennam for many years on account of their
misdeeds; so why should you or I trouble our heads about them? Did I
not know that the Ingleez are a truth-speaking nation, I should suspect
that you were telling me falsehoods when you assure me that crowds of
people in your country go to gaze upon these idols. I have heard that
they of your nation curse the other Christians who worship images; and
I know that Musa, the Prophet, was charged by Allah, the Exalted, to
forbid the making of such abominations. Why, even the mountain
Nestorians would not suffer a picture in their houses; and are you less
wise than they?

"I remember I once went to the house of a Frank who
passed through
here a little time ago, and he received me with great honor. We sat
down together in peace, and were quietly smoking when a dog of a Jew
brought some Worn and rusted coins, for which I would not have given a
para. The Frank acted as if the father of the Djin (genii) had
possessed him. He leaped from his sofa like one who had discovered a
treasure. He viewed the rubbish as if it had been some beautiful
damsel, and gave the old thief of a Jew a sum which would have kept my
household for a week. The cunning rogue departed, laughing in his
sleeve-may confusion rest upon him!-and the Frank left me hastily,
without saying 'Peace be with you,' to examine his purchase. I asked
the servant if they were relics or pictures of saints that his
excellency worshiped, but he only laughed at my beard. Verily, the
Franks are a strange people."

After this speech, a long one for him, my old friend
kept silence
till the sound of the muezzin's voice summoned him to quit his beloved
pipe. His sentiments, however, represent accurately the feelings of his
countrymen with regard to antiquities.

Even my friend ----, one of the most intelligent
Orientals I ever
met, and a person well acquainted with European habits and tastes,
could not account for or enter into our admiration for antiquities.
"When I was in Rome," said he to a countryman, "I found the Franks more
attentive to these old pagan images than to the rites of their own
worship. The churches were deserted, and the museums and galleries
thronged. These Westerns seem to pay the same devotion to a statue or
an antique that we do to the blessed saints." I think it was St. Jerome
who once said, addressing our European ancestors: "The churches are
adorned with costly marbles and pictures, which every one flocks to
admire. God and purple are lavished on senseless structures, while the
poor of Christ, the living image of the great Creator, are, abandoned
to suffering and neglect. Would that you who make so much of an
inanimate mass of marble would feel for, the miseries of the moving and
breathing statue!"

The Easterns at least do not merit the application
of the latter
portion of the sentence.

CHAPTER XV

Easter. A death and funeral. Kas Botros
and Kas Michael. The
Christian fugitive. The merchant of Baghdad. Religious parties of
Mosul. A reformer. A baptized Mohammedan.

THE season of Lent is rigorously observed by the
Christians of the
Oriental churches. Few of them touch any food till after mid-day, when
they take a slight repast, which sustains them until sunset. The close
of the period of mortification was drawing nigh at the time of my
return to Mosul, and men and women were looking forward with no small
satisfaction to the celebration of the Easter festival. The pope had
sent an indulgence to his Chaldean children, in virtue of which the
severity of the fast was to be in some measure mitigated; but they had
declined to avail themselves of the favor, as it was deemed an
infringement of ancient customs.

Easter came at last, and we distinguished it by a
feast at the
English Consulate, in which that noted dish of the Arabian Nights, lamb
stuffed with pistachio nuts, formed no unimportant item of the repast.
Prayers had previously been said in our little chapel, and after dinner
we walked abroad to pay the compliments of Easter to our numerous
acquaintance. Their feast, however, did not occur till some days after,
when the whole of the Christian population appeared abroad dressed in
their gayest habiliments, which were set off by their happy and joyous
countenances. Friends stopped in street to greet one another with the
glad announcement, "Kam el Meseeh, the. Christ, has, risen;"
while the wealthy and respectable made the hearts of their poorer
brethren joyful with their donations of money and rice.

Yet amidst the universal joy one heart at least in
Mosul was feeling
the most poignant affliction. Mr. ----, one of the American
missionaries, had long been struggling with a malignant and incurable
disorder, and the echo of the mirth called forth by the high and joyous
festival had scarcely died away before his wife found herself a lonely
widow in the midst of a strange country. The last breath had not long
left the body of the departed when his friends were called upon to
solemnize his funeral obsequies. The Chaldean clergy, instigated by the
Italian missionaries, had refused even a grave to one whom they
considered a heretic; but the Syrian Jacobites came forward and offered
to bestow alike a place of burial and the rites of their church on the
stranger from a distant land.

The whole of the Europeans in Mosul accompanied the
mournful cortege
as it defiled slowly through the narrow streets of the city to the
Syrian church. The coffin was placed before the altar, with lights at
each end, and the numerous assemblage listened in solemn silence to the
deep-toned chant of the priests and deacons who recited those passages
from Scripture which contain the accounts of the burial of Sarah, and
of Jacob.

After a brief ceremony, the bearers took up their
load once more,
and conveyed it to an open grave in the cemetery attached to the
church. A prayer from one of the missionaries followed, and the remains
of their brother were lowered into their final resting-place. The
deceased had been generally beloved on account of the kindness and
amiability of his manners, and even those who differed widely from him
in creed could hardly restrain themselves from bestowing-a tear to the
memory of one whose piety and humility had endeared him to all.

Soon after this mournful event, two Chaldean
priests, Kas Michael
and Kas Botros, arrived at Mosul. In the latter, I had the pleasure of
greeting an old Maltese acquaintance, and one of the most talented
members of the Oriental priesthood I ever encountered. He had formerly
belonged to the Romish Syrians, but, from long study and examination,
had come to the conclusion that the doctrines of the Church of England
were purer than those of Rome, or of any Oriental community. He had
been in great danger from the machinations of his enemies, who had
seized already a small estate which he possessed, near Aleppo, and
would willingly have incarcerated his person, also, had he not obtained
the protection of the English consul. Kas Michael was a Chaldean, and
had formerly been a monk at Rabban Hormuzd.

Kas Botros had taken up his abode at my house, and
was accompanied
thither by a poor Christian from Aleppo, who had been much persecuted
on account of some property which a merciless Mohammedan was
endeavoring to wrest from him. The day after his arrival, a kawass of
the pasha appeared, to demand his person of me. Having, however,
ascertained the injustice of the case, I determined to act upon the
maxim that every Frank's house is his castle, a piece of traditional
law generally recognized in Turkey. I accordingly bolted the outer
door, and answered the knocking of the kawass from a small terrace that
overlooked the street.

"Khowejah Yacoub," said the official, "I am sent
from his
excellency, the pasha, to enter your house, and to seize the person of
a runaway debtor who has taken refuge there. Will you open the door?"

"Assuredly I will not," was my reply. "Am I your
porter, O man! Make
your way in, if you are able, but I draw no bolt for you!"

"Very well; I shall return to-morrow," said the
kawass, as he
departed.

No time was to be lost. I gave the poor Christian a
small sum, by
means of which he bribed the guard at the gate, and before his
persecutors returned, the next morning, he was on his way to Baghdad. I
ordered my servant to admit them; but their search was, of course,
ineffectual, and they retired, muttering no very complimentary comments
on my conduct. Old Mohammed, who was, as usual, enjoying his pipe on my
diwan, was highly amused, and laughed heartily when the intruders had
departed.

"Verily, you are a sheitan, Khowajah Yacoub," said
he. That I may do
the Mohammedans full justice, however, I will relate an instance of
rare and unexpected generosity, which took place some time before my
arrival at Mosul.

A poor Christian merchant of the latter place had
been unfortunate
in his speculations, so much so, indeed, that there was no prospect of
satisfying his numerous creditors, among whom was a rich Mohammedan
merchant of Baghdad, that he had only seen once or twice. At length his
affairs became in such an embarrassed state that he had no money left,
so that, when one of his Mosul creditors came to his house, and
insisted upon being paid, the poor man was driven to his wits' end.

"May Allah and the Virgin assist me!" he exclaimed;
"I know not what
to door to say."

"Pay me my debt, O Christian dog!" roared the,
inexorable creditor,
or by Allah you shall be dragged to prison, where you will eat stick
without measure or limit."39

"Have pity upon me, miserable wretch that I am!"
supplicated the
unhappy debtor. "Give me but a little time, and I will endeavor to
satisfy your demand."

"By our holy prophet," was the reply, "I will not
grant your
request, O unclean; and hear me--if the money is not paid before
to-morrow, at noon, you will find yourself prison and in chains."

With this menace the angry creditor departed,
leaving his
unfortunate debtor to no very enviable reflections. All the miseries
which he might expect would be heaped upon him before another sunset
came in succession before his agitated mind. He was sensible that he
had to look forward, not merely to loss of liberty, but to tortures and
torments which every rigid creditor in the East has the power of
inflicting. His faith, also, would be an additional offence in the eyes
of his persecutors, who, instigated by Their bigotry, consider mercy to
a Christian almost as a crime. His wife and children, too, must be left
defenceless and alone, exposed to all the temptations and privations of
helpless indigence. It was a sore moment for the poor man, and when he
saw his favorite little daughter running up the stairs of the terrace
to embrace him, he felt, as he pressed her to his bosom, that he could
almost rejoice if the holy angels bore her away that instant from a
world of sorrow.

The sight of a raft making ready for its voyage down
the river to
Baghdad turned his thoughts to his rich creditor in that city. He had
heard him well spoken of as a man of generous and liberal character,
and one who was humane and charitable to all who were in need. "But he
is a Moslem," reflected the poor Christian, "and, like the rest of his
sect, would be but too glad to trample on the despised Nazarene."

At this moment, a strong temptation came into his
mind. If he could
obtain a few days' delay, a wealthy relative at Diarbekir bad promised
him the loan of a sum sufficient to discharge his present debts in
Mosul, and he would then be saved from the dreaded prison and the
tortures. What if he gave his pressing creditor an order upon the
merchant at Baghdad for the money he demanded? The time occupied by the
voyage there, and the journey back, would afford ample leisure for a
trusty messenger to go to Diarbekir and to return with the advanced
loan, from which he could both pay the debt and silence his creditor,
whom he knew to be an avaricious greedy man, with such a present as
would appease his anger at the bootless errand.

He thought over his plan all night, and although at
first his
conscience reproached him with intended duplicity, its remonstrances
were overpowered by the cruel images of future suffering which his mind
had conjured up. The result of his cogitations was that he determined
to carry it into execution.

Early the next morning, he rose from broken and
uneasy slumbers,
rendered more unquiet by visions of chains, gloomy dungeons, and
scourges. Very welcome was the cool breeze that played upon his fevered
cheek as he leaned on the wall of his balcony; and his aching eye
wandered over the mounds of Nineveh to the distant Kurdish mountains,
the abode of the free.

"Should the worst happen, I can escape thither with
my family," he
thought. "The Nestorians, our ancient brethren, will afford shelter and
protection to an oppressed fugitive; and even the Kurds are not fond of
delivering up one who has sought the shadow of their roofs."

His meditations were interrupted by the unwelcome
voice of his
creditor in the court below. He descended to meet him, and endeavored
to put on the air of a man who, though unfortunate, is not wholly
destitute of resources.

"Salaam Khowajah Ibraheem," he said, "I have thought
over our
conversation yesterday, and I must certainly avow that I am able to pay
your demand, though it will much inconvenience me. I have intrusted a
sum to Suleiman Aga at Baghdad, with which he is to purchase for me
some merchandise from El Hind. The vessels do not arrive till after at
least fourteen days, so that he has the money still in his hands. Yet
the payment of this sum will greatly distress me, seeing that I have no
immediate means of replacing what I had destined to be the price of the
Indian goods, which I must therefore lose the opportunity of purchasing
if you refuse to wait."

Ibraheem listened to his speech with increasing
satisfaction, for he
knew that a bill on Suleiman was like so much gold, and, as he had
occasion to go to Baghdad on affairs of his own, the voyage would not
much signify. He replied, therefore, in as conciliatory a tone as he
could assume, that he was grieved that his own necessities obliged him
to insist on instant payment: but he secretly chuckled to himself as he
placed in the bosom of his gown the paper which the Christian had just
written with a trembling hand. He was indeed so full of
self-congratulation that he did not observe the pale mournful
expression of his debtor, who, after his departure, threw-himself on
his diwan, and, covering his face with his hands, wept long and
bitterly.

Days rolled on, but, although a messenger had been
dispatched to
Diarbekir the very morning of Ibraheem's departure, and had been
charged to rifle as if Azrael were behind him, he tarried and came not.
At length, the Christian received the intelligence that Ibraheem had
returned, and was even then entering the Baghdad gate of Mosul. The
poor Nazarene trembled at the prospect of his wrath. He made an attempt
to escape that very night: but his excellency the pasha, from some
caprice or other, having given orders that no one should leave the
city, he was rudely repulsed by the guardians of the gate. Returning to
his house, he spent the night in fear and agitation, scarcely knowing
what course to adopt. At length, he determined to go to Ibraheem,
confess the fraud he had practiced, and surrender himself to his
vengeance.

The morning breeze was blowing cool and refreshing
from the
mountains of Kurdistan, as he set forth, the next morning, on his
unpleasant errand. More than one church was open, and the worshipers
were pouring in for the morning prayers. The poor merchant entered, and
joined in the service; and when it was over he bent his burning
forehead to the cool marble pavement, and prayed earnestly for
deliverance from peril, and that He, who sways the thoughts of all men,
would soften the stony heart of his adversary, and incline him to
compassion and pity.

He left the church, and, quickening his pace,
arrived at the house
of Ibraheem just as that person was crossing his own threshold to go
forth to his daily avocations. To the astonishment of the Christian,
the countenance of his creditor became radiant with the most cringing
civility.

"Djanum, O my soul!" said he, "you are welcome to
the dwelling of
the unworthy Ibraheem. Will you not honor me by entering and drinking a
pipe,40
since it is yet
early, and to a guest like you all business must give place."

The Christian stared in utter amazement at Ibraheem
while he uttered
this complimentary address. "Verily," he thought within himself, "the
Djin of Babel, which I have heard of from the Holy Writings, must have
possessed the man." He restrained his astonishment, however, and sat
down as invited.

"O, my friend," said the obsequious Ibraheem, as he
handed to his
guest with a low bend the pipe which he had lit, "why did you not tell
the that you are even as the brother of Suleiman Aga. Evil light upon
my head that I should behave with such rudeness to the friend of so
excellent a man."

"You speak parables, O Ibraheem!" said the surprised
Christian.

"I say what is the truth," replied his host. "I went
to Baghdad with
your paper, and my first care was to repair to Suleiman Aga. Mashallah!
what a house is his! On my head, it is far larger and more beautiful
than the palace of our pasha! Well, I entered into the court and saw a
number of mendicants, Christians as well as Mohammedans, who were
receiving from the servants large bowls of rice. 'Has something
extraordinary occurred, O man!' said I to one of the beggars who stood
near me, 'that this distribution is taking place?' 'It happens daily,'
he replied. ' May God grant long life to Suleiman Aga! He is the father
of the poor.'

"I then signified to one of the slaves, a stout
black, whose cheeks
were as well stuffed as the cushions of my best diwan, that I wished to
see Suleiman Aga.,

"'Follow me, my master,' he replied, and led the way
into a large
room, where, reclining on cushions richly embroidered, sat the prince
of the Baghdad merchants. I made a low obeisance, and would have taken
my seat at the lower end of the room, but Suleiman motioned me to sit
by his side. Pipes and coffee were served, and, after a few
compliments, I related the object of my journey and produced your
document. Suleiman seemed surprised as he read it carefully through;
but, after pondering awhile, he said, "Tell me the circumstances under
which you received this paper.' Whereupon I told him all that had
happened between me and yourself. When Suleiman had heard my tale, his
countenance grew stern, and he said, 'O Ibraheem, you have been hard
and severe upon my friend and my brother; nevertheless, here is your
money and something besides for the expenses of the journey. Return to
Mosul, and tell the Christian merchant that in a month's time from the
present day I expect to see him beneath the shadow of my roof.' I began
to excuse myself, but Suleiman stopped me. 'The heart of the covetous,'
he said, 'is like the ocean: it can never be filled. Depart in peace,
and henceforth learn to show mercy to the unfortunate.' Ashamed, I left
his presence and returned to Mosul. My intention was to seek you out
to-day and relate what had occurred; though doubtless Suleiman Aga,
your excellent friend, has already made it known to you by letter. I
must have been medjnoon41
to have treated so worthy a man as yourself in so rude a manner, but I
trust that you and your brother Suleiman Aga will pardon me."

Soon after, the Christian merchant left the house,
astonished beyond
measure at the munificence of Suleiman Aga. He could hardly believe
that one, almost a stranger, would have befriended him in such a
manner, or that a Mohammedan would have given help and assistance to a
Christian. Penetrated with gratitude, he rushed into the nearest church
and gave vent to his feelings in energetic and heartfelt thanksgivings.
Afterwards he went to his house, took a hasty farewell of his family,
and embarked on a raft that was just then leaving for Baghdad. When he
arrived at the City of Peace, he hastened to the house of Suleiman,
and, throwing himself at his feet, confessed at once the imposition and
entreated his forgiveness.

The prince of the Baghdad merchants bade him rise
and be seated,
assuring him that the past was pardoned and forgotten. He even invited
him to take up his quarters for a few days at his house, and bestowed
upon him some magnificent robes in lieu of his travel-stained
vestments. After dinner, when they were alone, the Christian was
profuse in his expressions of gratitude, and ventured to hint his
surprise that a stranger should confer a benefit so costly on one
utterly unknown to him.

"O my brother," said Suleiman, "Allah, the Exalted,
is the father of
us all, and has committed the poor and the unfortunate to the care of
the wealthy and the prosperous. When we aid the misfortunes of one
another, and supply from our own abundance the deficiencies of our
fellow men, we do but relieve those who are closely related to us by
the ties of nature and position. The showing of compassion renders us
like to Him whose chosen title is El Raham, the Merciful One."

"But I am a Christian, O Suleiman," said the Mosul
merchant, "and
the professors of your creed deem us worse than the dogs of the
streets."

"The Maker of all," was the reply, "has caused the
birds to differ
in the color of their plumage, and men in their opinions; but both the
Koran and the Injeel agree in enjoining charity and mercy."

The day after, the Christian left for his native
city, bearing with
him a large sum lent him by the munificent Suleiman, who proved ever
afterwards his sure and stanch friend. The aid so seasonably rendered
enabled him to retrieve his losses, and to repay in a short time the
money advanced, as well as the original debt. Mindful of the lesson
taught him by the liberality of the Mohammedan, he endeavored in after
life to imitate his example; bestowing his bounties on all who needed
them, without any distinction of religion or sect. Among the objects of
his charity was his former creditor, Ibraheem, who became unfortunate
in his old days, and was indebted to the kindness of the man whom he
had persecuted for an asylum in his time of need. At a good old age,
the worthy merchant slept with his fathers, and the corpse was
accompanied to its last resting-place by crowds of the unfortunate and
the miserable, who lamented with sincere and unfeigned grief the loss
of their munificent benefactor and friend.

The priests Botros and Michael very soon found it
necessary to move
from my house to one in the middle of the quarter inhabited chiefly by
the Chaldean Christians. Their arrival at Mosul had created no small
stir, and the Italian missionaries instigated the clergy of the town to
curse them from their altars, and to prohibit, under pain of
excommunication, any person from holding the least intercourse with
them. They were induced to take these violent measures, from fear of
the reforming spirit which had begun to manifest itself among the
Christians of Mosul.

For several centuries, the Nestorians of
Mesopotamia, Persia, and
Assyria had maintained an independent and hostile attitude with regard
to the pretensions of the See of Rome. The numerous papal emissaries
who had endeavored, from time to time, to win over the discontented and
the factious, two classes rarely absent from any community, to even a
nominal submission to the papal supremacy, had most singularly failed
in their attempts. Their arguments and their bribes proved alike
ineffectual, till the disappointed vanity of a Nestorian prelate came
to their aid, and effected a schism, the fruits of which became more
manifest in succeeding years.

The same century which witnessed the Reformation,
and the detachment
of nearly the whole of Northern Europe from the pope's spiritual
dominions, beheld a Nestorian bishop prostrate at the feet of Julius
III. A spirited contest for the possession of the patriarchate of the
East had arisen between Simeon Barmamas and John Sulaka. The character
of the former has been differently described by friends and enemies.
The one revere him as the reformer of many abuses and superstitions
which had crept into the Chaldean Church; while the latter represent
him as an heretical and impious tyrant, whose sacrilegious hand was
stretched forth to profane and abolish the pious customs of devout
antiquity. He was probably one of those men who, with the best
intentions, enter upon the work of reform with more zeal and
precipitate haste than prudence, and avert, by their ill-judging
violence, the co-operation of those who would otherwise be well
disposed towards the objects which they have in view.

The wishes of the majority being in favor of Simeon,
the baffled
Sulaka determined to strengthen himself by foreign alliances. He
repaired to Rome and, in the presence of the pontiff, abjured the
errors of Nestorius, and received, as a reward, the title of Patriarch
of the Chaldeans. In process of time, he formed a large party,
distinguished by their submission to the Roman supremacy, and the
self-assumed appellation of the Chaldean Church. After many dissensions
and divisions, the Christians of Assyria arranged themselves at last
into three bodies, two of whom obeyed the papal Patriarchs of Diarbekir
and Mosul, while the hardy mountaineers of Tiyari and Ooromiah
maintained obstinately their adherence to the tenets of Nestorius, and
the authority of Mar Shimon. The heads of the Diarbekir and Mosul
Romanists were distinguished by the names of Joseph and Elias, which
descended, with the dignity, to the nephew and successor of each
patriarch.

The changes in the services and ritual of the papal
Chaldeans were
slight and trifling. A few words of ambiguous import introduced into a
liturgy composed in a dead language were little likely to awaken the
suspicions or inflame the discontent of the multitude. But when, in
after times, more manifest innovations were foisted into the old
system, murmurs began to be heard, accompanied by some faint signs of
opposition. The papal emissaries, however, went steadily on. Pictures
crept into the churches, and the image-hating Nestorians beheld, with a
mixture of horror and disgust, the elevation of a waxen idol in the
sanctuary of God. The confession-boxes were also introduced, and it was
even announced that a Latin liturgy was to be substituted for the old
Chaldean missal. But the worst had yet to come.

A few years before my arrival, the Patriarch of
Mosul died, and
bequeathed his honors and his name to a nephew who had been educated
under his own eye. The new patriarch was about to solicit the
approbation and confirmation of the Roman pontiff, when it was
announced at Mosul that the right of nomination had been transferred
from the Chaldean clergy to the Supreme Head of the Church, and that he
had appointed Mar Nicholas, a Persian bishop of doubtful character, to
the patriarchate. This news excited general indignation. After a faint
and feeble resistance, however, Mar Elia abdicated his rights, or at
least quietly acquiesced in the usurpation of another; and the last
descendant of a line of patriarchs retired to a state of poverty and
obscurity in one of the neighboring villages.

We found the Chaldeans of Mosul, therefore, divided
into two
parties, one of which recognized the pretensions of Mar Nicholas, the
papal nominee, while the other, without absolutely rejecting him,
retained a secret fidelity to the fallen house of Elia.

The latter party soon added to their private
animosity towards the
authority of Rome a hearty and determined dislike of the novelties
which the papal party had introduced. They complained that new and
unapproved rites, supported neither by Scripture nor tradition, had
been forced upon them by the machinations of a foreign priesthood. The
celebration of the mass in the chapel of the Italian missionaries was
intended, they asserted, to prepare the way for its general adoption.
The impediments laid in the way of the circulation of the Scriptures,
they censured as policy of which even Mohammedans would be ashamed;
while they pointed out, in coarse and bitter irony, the lamentable
results of an enforced celibacy on the morals of the clerical body.

In countries where circumstances allow of the
exercise of arbitrary
power, the motto of the Church of Rome has always been "argue not, but
strike." One Sunday morning, thirteen of the discontented were solemnly
excommunicated, and a curse denounced against those who should converse
or have any dealings with them.

One of these men was the leader of the rest, and was
noted in the
city for being among the most determined opponents of Rome. He was a
short, square-built personage, with a burly face, more English than
Chaldean. Though a little extreme in his views, like all reformers, his
motives were single and pure. He desired to see his church freed from
the hateful yoke of the stranger, and was ready to sacrifice anything
to obtain so valuable an end. The rude eloquence of his tones, and the
overwhelming ridicule which he poured unsparingly upon his shrinking
and cowardly adversaries, might have been considered worthy of a more
enlarged sphere of action. The papist party dreaded his approach, and
fled from the sound of his voice as the Trojans retreated at the shout
of Achilles. They endeavored to incense the pasha against him, but his
bold daring had won the esteem of one who was in some respects a
kindred spirit, and the governor bade the accusers be gone, adding that
Georgios was quite right in exposing the folly of a set of insane
worshipers of images.

Some mollahs made our friend tempting offers if he
would embrace the
religion of the Prophet; but Georgios, while he disliked its
corruptions, was sincerely attached to the Christian faith. He
generally attended the daily service in our little chapel, and
expressed himself much gratified with the purity and simplicity of the
English ritual.

One day while on a visit to Kas Botros, an old
Mohammedan came in,
and, taking up a book of the Gospels which lay on the diwan, expressed
himself much pleased with its contents. A conversation ensued, during
which he informed us that he himself had been baptized in his infancy
by a Christian priest.

"It is often performed in Mosul," replied the old
Moslem, "for most
of us who live here are descended from Christian parents, who have
become at various times professors of Islam. Not many years ago, I have
heard old men say that a Christian pasha bare rule here, and Christians
were above the Moslem in those days. On my head they were powerful
then, and even a Mohammedan governor did not care to interfere with
them. But since they quarreled among themselves, they have become weak
as water."

"Is it common then in this city," I inquired, "for
Mohammedan
children to be baptized?"

"On my head, it is," he answered; "I will tell you
how it happened
with me. I had not long left my mother's arms when I was taken very
sick. My mother was distracted, for the physician gave me up, and said
that Azrael was even then flapping his wings over my head. Then my
mother slapped her face and tore her hair, and called to my sister to
run for the mollah. He came, and gave her a verse of the Koran to bang
about my neck in a little bag, for which he demanded five piastres,
which my mother willingly paid, for she would gladly even have sold all
her jewels to save my life. Still I grew worse and worse, and every one
thought I was going to die, when an old Christian woman came in to
visit my mother.

"'Ayesha,' said toe new comer, 'Djanum my soul, do
not lament and
grieve, but listen to what I am about to tell you. Your child's life
may depend on it. Let me call our priest to baptize your son, and, by
the mercy of the Holy Virgin, he shall recover.'

But what will the mollah say?' argued my mother.

"'The mollah is an ass, Djanum,' said the old woman;
'he told me
once our sex should never see Paradise. Ah, Christianity is the
religion for women. They say the Franks in the West even worship their
females.'

"So old Kas Zachariah came and baptized me, and soon
after, praise
be to God, I recovered."

"Then do you attribute your recovery to your
baptism?" asked I.

"Allah, the Exalted, knows," said the old
Mohammedan, thoughtfully,
as he arose to take his leave.

CHAPTER XVI

Nestorian troubles and massacre. Flight
of the patriarch. The
Italian juggler. Death of Mohammed Pasha. The impostor. Nebbi Sheeth.

AT the commencement of June, 1843, rumors of a
strange and
distressing character reached Mosul from the region of the Tiyari
Nestorians. Various fugitives, who had barely escaped with their lives
from the murderous attacks of the Kurds, reported that their once
peaceful country was now a scene of desolating and savage warfare. From
day to day, more disastrous tidings were arriving, till at length it
was announced that the patriarch himself, with a considerable body of
his clergy and flock, were upon their way to Mosul, intending to place
themselves under the protection of the vice-consul of England, and to
solicit through him the interposition of the British government with
the Ottoman Porte. In order, however, to save the reader and myself
much unnecessary trouble, I shall endeavor to trace from their
commencement the causes which led to the Nestorian massacre. I am the
more anxious to do this, in order to contradict the false and
calumnious statement which appeared in some English newspapers during
the latter part of the year 1843.

The town of Jezirah has been already mentioned as
situated on a
small island formed by the Tigris, which, in that place, flows directly
at the foot of the Kurdish Mountains. Inhabited almost exclusively by
Kurds, it may indeed be considered as part of Kurdistan; and, though
nominally under the Pasha of Erzeroum, the real government of it and
part of the adjacent mountain territory has been confided to the charge
of Kurdish chiefs, who claim the title of Beys of Jezirah.

At the period of my visit, the ruler of this insular
town was Beder
Khan, a man of some talent and more ambition. A kind of Oriental
Cromwell in his way, be bad obtained great influence and power by his
known zeal for the tenets of the Koran, and unqualified abhorrence of
Christians. Bigoted Kurds and fanatical mollahs fanned his prejudices,
and flattered his ambition, with the prospect of erecting Kurdistan
into an independent kingdom. The only obstacle to his wishes was the
existence of a Christian power in the midst of the mountains, whose
political interests rendered them likely to prove most inimical to his
views.

The chosen ally and confederate of the Jezirah chief
was the Emir of
Hakkari, a district to the north-east of Mosul. This man, whose name
was Noor Allah Bey, had gained an unenviable notoriety from his having
connived at the murder of the European traveler Schulz. Dark, sullen,
and ferocious, he was distinguished above all the Kurdish chiefs by his
many acts of savage cruelty. He hated the Christians, and longed for
nothing so much as an opportunity of showing his dislike by deeds.

Mohammed Pasha, of Mosul, was said to have become a
party to a
nefarious arrangement, whereby he engaged himself to allow the two.
Kurdish confederates to pursue their designs unmolested, provided he
received a certain portion of the spoil. It is probable, also, that his
brother of Erzeroum was not so ignorant of the intended plot as he
found it afterwards necessary to pretend.

Having arranged their plan of operation, the two
Kurdish chieftains
discovered that a pretext for aggression was easily found. A slight
quarrel between the Nestorians of one of the villages of Dez and some
neighboring Kurds was made use of as a pretence for beginning a bloody
and exterminating war. Pleading the authority of an order from the
Pasha of Erzeroum, Beder Khan Bey invaded the Nestorian territory at
the head of a Kurdish force. Noor Allah Bey attacked them on the other
side, and the Christians found that they were suddenly surrounded by
foes.

Relying on the amity which had for some time
subsisted between the
patriarch and the Kurdish chiefs, they had taken no care to provide
themselves with arms. At the commencement of the war they were
massacred by hundreds without resistance; but the first panic of
surprise having passed away, despair lent them courage and the means of
defence. The peasant sharpened up the rusty sword which had so long
lain neglected in the corner of his cottage, and prepared for more
deadly warfare the long rifle which had hitherto been used only against
the wild deer of the mountains. The husbandman, in lieu of more perfect
implements of defence, converted his tools into weapons, and though
distracted and divided among themselves by the arts of the Kurds, the
Christians of the mountains determined to struggle manfully for their
lives and liberties.

The conflict was desperate and sanguinary, for it
was literally a
war to the knife. The Kurds treated their captives with such barbarity,
that the Christians perceived it was useless to count upon the mercy or
magnanimity of their captors. They chose, in most instances, therefore,
to die with arms in their hands, rather than be reserved for tie
tortures which the cruelty of the infidels delighted in inflicting.

In many captured villages, the ruthless barbarians
tossed infants
and children in fiendish sport on the points of their pikes, and
reserved the youth of maturer age for ignominy worse than death. The
groans of men expiring under the most dreadful tortures, and the
shrieks and cries of insulted women, filled the whole region, while
troops of helpless captives were driven like oxen down the steep paths
of the Kurdish Mountains.

On one occasion, a fortress into which a body of
armed Kurds had
thrown themselves was besieged by the Nestorians; The former held out
for some time, hoping for the arrival of succors from the main army of
Beder Khan Bey. At length they became exceedingly distressed for want
of water, and promised upon the Koran to capitulate if they were
allowed a plentiful supply from a well in the rear of the besiegers:
The unsuspicious Christians granted them the permission desired, and
even aided them in drawing the water. When the Kurds had satisfied
their thirst, they retracted their solemn engagement and refused to
deliver up the castle. The same day the expected succors arrived, a
sharp contest ensued, in which the Christians were defeated, and many
of them taken prisoners.

The Kurdish commander, incensed at the loss of men
which he had
sustained, ordered a large fire to be kindled in the square or
market-place of the next village. His directions were obeyed, and,
forcing his captives to sit round the blazing pile, he commanded his
soldiers to force their legs into the flames, and thus gradually to
burn the unfortunate men alive.

The struggle was carried on by both parties, at
first with almost
equal success, but it soon became evident that the Christians were the
weaker, and must eventually succumb. Various circumstances contributed
to their defeat. In the first place, the Maleks or chiefs of the
Nestorians were divided among themselves, and jealous of the
patriarchal power. In times of warfare too, an ecclesiastical
government is rarely able to develop successfully those measures of
resistance and opposition which are often necessary to the safety of
the state. For many years, the spiritual chiefs of the Tiyari had
maintained their position more by the arts of policy than of war. The
Maleks felt themselves without a leader or guide in the hour of battle,
and many of them were disposed to undervalue a ruler whose marked
deficiency in the arts which they themselves excelled in was becoming
daily more apparent.

Had the patriarch been emulous of the actions
performed by
the warlike clergy of Europe in the Middle Ages, he might have
exchanged his mitre for a helmet, and, unfurling the banner of the
cross, called upon his people to charge the infidels boldly in the name
of God and of St. George.42
Had he possessed the sentiments of an ancient Puritan, he would have
exhorted his vassals to smite the modern 1VIoabites and Amalekites with
the edge of the sword, is nearly the same language that was used by
Joshua and Gideon.43
But
he had neither the talents nor the enthusiasm necessary to inflame the
ardor of his subjects, although there is strong reason to believe that
they would readily have responded to his exhortations.

Moreover, the temper of the Orientals is most averse
to complicated
and united movements, however well adapted for desultory and irregular
warfare. The Nestorian who defended with dauntless bravery the safety
of his hearth and the honor of his family would have been as reluctant
as an ancient Highlander to abandon his local position for a main army,
whose rendezvous was distant from his own abode. Unskilled in military
manoeuvres, he chose rather to rescue his humble dwelling from its
assailants, or, if he failed, to redden the threshold of his fathers
with his blood. When his village was burnt, and his wife and children
slain or captives, he still maintained a species of guerilla warfare
with his-trusty rifle from crag to crag. When driven to his last
retreat, he stood like the wolves of his native mountains boldly at
bay, and left the marks of his expiring prowess on the bodies of his
foes.

During the continuation of this contest, the Pasha
of Mosul, who was
well informed of all the events that had taken place in the mountains,
affected the utmost astonishment at the movements of the Kurds. His
pretended regret, however, was too palpable to deceive those who knew
his character, and were well aware that a Turkish regiment, backed by a
detachment of Albanians, with two or three field pieces, would have
terminated the war at once.

The reverses of the Christians became more marked,
and at length the
patriarch was hunted from village to village with a small but faithful
band of supporters, who refused to desert him in his distress. One of
his last asylums was a small collection of huts on the banks of the
Zab, where a visitation of a most painful character was destined to
fall on his doomed head. A little higher up the river, the Kurds had
succeeded in capturing the mother and one of the brothers of the
patriarch. The age, sex, and rank of the former might have pleaded in
her behalf, but such appeals were lost upon the savage barbarians, who,
after offering shameful insults to their defenceless captive, finally
butchered her in the most savage manner, and cutting the corpse in four
pieces, they sent the mutilated remains, secured to a small raft,
floating down the Zab. Some Christians saw it as it passed the
temporary refuge of the patriarch, they brought it to the shore, and
the unfortunate and broken-hearted chieftain bent in mute agony over
the dishonored form of her who had given him birth. His spirit was now
overwhelmed with calamities, and he determined to strive no longer, but
to seek in Mosul a refuge from his pursuers.

The knowledge that the patriarch had abandoned the
Tiyari country
was the signal for a vast tide of fugitives to descend to the plains.
The villages on the site of Nineveh were filled with men, women, and
children, covered with wounds, and suffering from the forced marches
through the rocky defiles of Kurdistan. Numbers sank exhausted on the
stony soil never to rise again; women clasped to their bosoms the cold
and lifeless memorials of a husband slain in defending them from
outrage. Sorrow and grief seemed the portion of the unhappy Nestorians,
and the patriarch not unaptly availed himself of the mournful language
of the prophet Jeremiah to express the extent of his own and his
people's misfortunes.

One morning, as I was sitting with my friend B. in
the court-yard of
his house, it was announced that Mar Shimon had entered Mosul, and
would shortly arrive at the English consulate. We immediately repaired
thither, and in a few minutes the patriarch made his appearance. He
possessed a tall, muscular figure, with more of the hearing of a
soldier than of an ecclesiastic. His dress was strikingly dissimilar to
the usual episcopal vestments of the East. A pair of long scarlet
pantaloons and a short jacket seemed somewhat strange vestments for an
Oriental catholicos. Such habiliments, however, might be necessary in
the mountains, where long, flowing robes would have been attended with
inconvenience, if not with danger.

The patriarch's manner was gentle and subdued. A
marked melancholy
sat on his features, and his hair, although his years did not exceed
thirty, was prematurely gray. His archdeacon, Kas Auraha, or Abraham,
and his two brothers, in deacon's orders, who had escaped the late
massacre, accompanied him.

The patriarch and his principal attendants were
accommodated with
rooms in the consulate, while I opened my house to the numerous
fugitives, who came pouring in daily. They occupied chiefly the
subterranean apartments, which were very spacious, and they always
sought opportunities of viewing from the terraces the far distant hills
of their mountain home.

My new guests were very orderly in their. manners,
though wild in
their appearance. Only one decided quarrel broke out among them during
their abode with me, and this was occasioned by a half-crazy old man
who served the patriarch in the double capacity of a domestic and
buffoon. This worthy was addicted, like many of his countrymen, to the
vice of intoxication, and having on one occasion partaken rather freely
of the juice of the grape, he grew riotous, and addressed a reproachful
epithet to one of his companions. The fiery nature of the mountaineer
was excited, and he, retorted in no complimentary terms. The old
}buffoon drew his dagger and made a rush at his antagonist, who
retreated into an inner apartment and shut the door. Nothing could
equal the rage of old Yohannan at being thus balked of his vengeance.
Two or three times he burst from those who were restraining him, and
drove his knife into the hard wood of the door. At length he was
quieted, and after sleeping off his drunkenness, appeared the next
morning with a sober and abashed countenance.

Among the Nestorian fugitives was a woman named
Martha, who had
displayed, under trying circumstances, the courage of a heroine, and
the hardihood of the sterner sex. Her story was interesting, and worthy
of record. In one of the villages of the Tiyari, she had lived in peace
for five years with her husband Daniel, a man of some standing among
his fellow villagers. Two children had blessed their union, and in few
cottages of the mountains could be found a happier or more affectionate
pair. The Christian women of the Tiyari possess more freedom than their
sisters of the plain, and are trained up in that hardy manner which
enables them to face danger with almost the courage and resolution of a
man.

One evening, Martha and Daniel were sitting in their
cottage, and
talking over the sad rumors which had lately reached the village. It
was reported that war had broken out, that many Christians had been
massacred, and that a body of Kurds were in the neighborhood, who
intended, in a few days, to make an attack upon them. A sorrowful
foreboding seized the mind of Daniel as he took down his rifle and
began to clean and arrange it for the approaching struggle. But he
looked at his wife and his slumbering children, and he vowed inwardly
to defend them to the last gasp.

With the active energy of a female mountaineer,
Martha had been
polishing and sharpening her husband's sabre, when a red glow was
reflected through the small window of the cottage. Daniel opened the
door and listened. His house was a few yards distant from the village,
but he heard the shots and cries, and saw the flames arising from one
or two of the more remote cottages, He hastily shut to the door, and
barricaded it in the best way he was able.

A few minutes of fearful expectation had passed,
during which Daniel
girt on his sword, and loaded his rifle. Footsteps approached the door,
and a rough voice demanded admittance in Kurdish.

"I cannot open to strangers," was the reply.

"Give us instant entrance, you Christian dog,"
shouted several
voices outside, "or we will burn your house without delay."

The Nestorian returned no answer, and the assailants
endeavored to
force the door. It resisted their efforts for some time, and when it at
last gave way to repeated blows, they found the entrance defended by
one who was prepared to maintain his ground with the desperation of a
husband and father. One shot from his rifle had struck down one of the
Kurds, and he had handed it to Martha to reload while he endeavored to
make good his position with his sabre. At this moment, a bullet pierced
his heart, and he fell mortally wounded on his threshold. "The bear is
dead," said the Kurdish leader; "spare not the cubs."

One of his followers fired his pistol at the eldest
boy, and killed
him on the spot. The wife had seen her husband fall, with a mute grief
that almost paralyzed her exertions, and overwhelmed her with a species
of helpless stupor; but the sight of her children's blood drove the
mother almost frantic. The assassin paid the penalty of his brutal act
with his life; and Martha, casting down the discharged rifle, which had
avenged her son, caught up the sabre which had fallen from her
husband's dying hand.

With the fury of a tigress robbed of her young, she
snatched up her
remaining child, and flew at the Kurds with all the earnestness of
desperation. They found themselves unable to resist the fury of her
attack, and four of them had fallen dead or wounded, when a small body
of Christians arrived in time to rescue the heroic widow from the shame
and insults of captivity.

But a sore trial still awaited her. The rescuers
feared to remain
for any time in the village, lest another attack should be made by a
stronger force; and they determined to lose no time in seeking the
shelter of the plains. With an embrace hastily bestowed on the lifeless
clay of her loved ones, the widow took up the surviving child, and
prepared to leave her former happy home. No tears betrayed her emotion,
but the rude mountaineers who accompanied her remarked her deep
silence, and the fixed gaze of her eye. The march was long and dreary,
but she uttered no complaint. Many sank exhausted under their fatigues,
but Martha seemed supported by an energy almost preternatural.

At length the exiles reached the town of Mosul, and
their
expressions of joy betrayed their satisfaction that they were now in
safety. Martha alone maintained a cold and silent indifference. It was
plain, although they knew it not, that her heart was broken.

The child was soon healed of its wounds, but
misfortune seemed to
follow it even in exile. A kind of pestilence broke out among the
fugitives, and the heroic mother was one of the first victims. Stern,
bearded men wept like
children as they
followed her to the grave, and the orphan child was regarded and tended
with particular affection and care.

A month or two after the arrival of the patriarch,
an Italian
conjurer made a 'visit to Mosul. He was skillful in his trade, and was
very desirous of exhibiting his talents before the European residents
of the city. Mar Shimon had expressed some curiosity to behold these
performances, and it was thought that a little amusement might be
acceptable in his distressed state of mind.

A large saloon in B.'s house was cleared and
prepared for the scene
of action. At the upper end was a long table, behind which stood the
juggler with his various apparatus. The Europeans and a large body of
Nestorians, as many in fact as could crowd themselves into the room,
were present. The patriarch seemed at first amused at the facetious
tricks which were exhibited. He even laughed heartily at the surprise
of some of his flock, who found articles of their property had suddenly
been multiplied or annihilated by the Frank enchanter. At length,
however, the conjuror proceeded to exhibit the abstruser mysteries of
his art. The patriarch's face became gradually more serious, and his
features at last assumed an expression of deep alarm. He rose hastily
from his seat, and whispered to B. "I can remain no longer, for surely
the Evil One worketh through this man."

An English merchant, resident at Mosul, had been
among the
spectators, and by some chance had seated himself next to the
patriarch. His good-humored countenance attracted the attention of the
latter, who exchanged with him, during the evening, a mute pantomime of
smiles and nods. At the conclusion of the performance, when the
patriarch rose to retire, he presented his hand to this gentleman,
expecting that, according to the custom of the East, he would
respectfully press it to his lips. But the worthy Englishman, not
understanding this mode of salutation, grasped with much vigor the
proffered member, and after bestowing on it a hearty shake, said, in
good earnest English, "I'm glad to make your acquaintance, Mar Shimon."

The representations of Sir Stratford Canning on
behalf of the
murdered Nestorians had roused the Ottoman government into something
like a determination to look into the matter. Beder Khan Bey was no
favorite at Stamboul, and the influence of Mohammed Pasha was on the
wane. Various complaints of extortion against the latter had awakened
the Porte to the fact that his coffers were too full, and might undergo
a slight diminution with great profit to his majesty, the Sultan. It is
never, however, the nature of Turks to be precipitate. After the usual
course of Inshallah and Baccalum,44
they agreed to send a young effendi of the Reformed school to
investigate the affair. The English vice-consul at Samsoun was joined
in commission, and the two gentlemen arrived at Mosul in due time.

While they were on the road, tidings of the proposed
commission of
inquiry had reached the watchful ears of Mohammed Pasha. He had taken
very much of late to habits of intoxication;. for, like most
of his class, he felt and expressed a great contempt for the mollahs
and their doctrines. One morning it was announced that the pasha was
ailing, news which filled all Mosul with secret joy. In the evening, he
was worse, and Dr. Grant, of the American mission, was requested to
hold a consultation with the Armenian physician of the pasha. But their
efforts were useless, and the remorseful tyrant expired soon
afterwards, loudly lamenting in his last moments the injuries which he
had done to Mar Shimon.

His death was a signal for a general rejoicing,
since all classes
felt that they could well spare him: The day of his burial was held as
a fete, and numbers appeared abroad, clad in their best apparel, and
making holiday with their wives and children. Small booths were erected
on the banks of the, river, and in that part of the city called the
quarter of the Tahara, which was covered with gardens and ruins. Had
some signal and unexpected good fortune happened to each of the
population of Mosul, they could hardly have rejoiced more. It was even
feared that they might attempt a riot in the exuberance of their joy.
People in the East are so little accustomed to freedom, that even the
semblance of it produces a species of moral intoxication.

The mollahs of Mosul had never been great favorites
with the late
ruler. He had abridged their privileges, and made free, on several
occasions, with their cash. Moreover, he was decidedly opposed to the
pious frauds which they sometimes played off upon the people in the
name of the Prophet.

One day, a pretender to sanctity was detected in a
manifest fraud.
This fanatic had inveigled himself into the confidence and esteem of an
old merchant of Mosul, who was very credulous and very rich. The
impostor had promised to obtain for him a vision of houries and the
secret of making gold, two things which the old man coveted extremely.
His delusion became so great that he received the dervish into his
house and treated him as a son. The fears of his family were even
excited that he might make him his heir; a proceeding not at all to
their taste. They carried their complaint to the pasha, who summoned
the impostor and his dupe before him.

"Is it true, O Father of Stupidity," said the
governor, addressing
the old merchant, "that you have been promised visions by this fellow,
and that he has instructed you in the art of making gold?"

"It is true, O pasha," was the reply and I fully
believe his words."

"Baccalum, we shall see!" observed the pasha. "Bring
the necessary
things for inflicting the bastinado."

His orders were obeyed, and four stout kawasses
entered, bearing
each a formidable whip of cowhide. The dervish eyed these preparations
with a rueful look, while the pasha addressed him in the following
words:--

"Unclean fellow that you are, you are imposing upon
this man's
ignorance and folly, to serve certain purposes of your own. You have
asserted that it is in your power to make gold. I, therefore, command
you to transmute this piece of money (throwing down a piastre) into the
precious metal, on pain of fifty sticks."

The impostor had no lack of impudence, and he
perceived that nothing
but an extraordinary effort could save him from the punishment which
his roguery had so well deserved. Assuming an injured air, be
complained that the pasha should treat a holy devotee in that rude and
peremptory manner. "The secrets of heaven," he concluded, "are only for
those who seek them with humility and fasting. I am not at liberty, O
pasha, to discover to you any of these mysteries, unless you will
submit to the necessary initiatory process."

"Peki, very well," said his excellency; "I believe
you will soon
change your tone. Kawasses, down with this fellow, and beat him soundly
till he confesses his villainy."

"I hear and obey," was the reply, as they placed the
impostor on his
back, and began to belabor his feet with their formidable whips. But he
was not proof against the pain, and, after a few blows, he expressed
his willingness to confess. Having acknowledged his imposture, the
pasha set him at liberty, with a grave caution never to offend again.

The mollahs, however, were little disposed to admit
the justice of a
procedure which exposed the knavish doings of their class. They had
also another cause of complaint against the deceased pasha, which, they
persuaded the people, had brought down upon him the vengeance of
Heaven. Among the Mohammedan places of worship in Mosul, was a mosque
dedicated to Nebbi Sheeth, or the Prophet Seth, which had been founded
and endowed by one of the former pashas. According to the tenor of the
endowment, each successive governor was bound to be present at an
annual sermon preached in this place, and to present the mollahs
attached to it with dresses of honor afterwards.

Like his predecessors, Mohammed Pasha was, of
course., subject to
this rule. The sermon he had no objection to, but the price of the
dresses was a serious consideration. At length, he purchased some
tarnished finery of the Jews, who, in the East, as well as in the West,
exercise their national calling of vendors of old clothes.

At the time appointed, the robes were presented, but
the mollahs
were grievously offended to find them only secondhand vestments. They
remonstrated, but his excellency declared he would bestow no other
apparel; and an altercation ensued, in the course of which the pasha
cursed the mollahs and their patron, Nebbi Sheeth: Six weeks after, he
died, and the devout Mohammedans in Mosul believed that he had fallen a
victim to the vengeance of the insulted Prophet.

Immediately after the pasha's death, seals were put
upon his
treasure chests, which were shortly after formally appropriated by the
Turkish government. His family received orders to repair to
Constantinople, and were granted -a small pension wherewith
to support themselves.

Mohammed Pasha was a man of very low extraction, and
could neither
read nor write. Like his cotemporary, the Viceroy of Egypt, he had been
originally a common soldier; Avarice rendered his administration
intolerable to all parties; but, though he scrupled at nothing to
obtain his ends, he was not naturally cruel; nor, like many others, did
he inflict punishment for the bare luxury of enjoying human suffering.
His bold and determined character, and the vigorous measures he
employed, tended very much to restrain the ravages and depredations of
the Kurds.

He left three wives to lament his loss, or to
rejoice at their
freedom. The eldest of these was a Greek, who bad been united to him in
the days of poverty, and it was said that he loved her better than any
other human being. To her wise counsels and guidance he considered that
he owed his good fortune, and to his credit she always received from
him the kindest and most, respectful treatment. The other two were
young Georgians, who enjoyed little consideration from a man who had
outlived the attractions of lust.

The town of Mosul is divided into several quarters,
the inhabitants
of which have a species of hereditary feud with each other. After the
pasha's death, several quarrels took place between them, which
frequently made parts of the city scenes of riot and confusion. When
the emotions of joy at their late release were somewhat abated, not a
few of the most wealthy and respectable citizens sighed for the arrival
of another governor, and confessed concerning the late one, almost in
the words of Shakspeare, their conviction that "they could have better
spared a better man."

CHAPTER XVII

The Eastern Christians. Their opinions.
Clergy. General character.

THE majority of travelers in the East have found
themselves
constrained to devote a few pages to notices of the present state and
tenets of that numerous and influential body, the Oriental Christians.
Missionary journals have been published to acquaint the public with the
differences that prevail among them, to censure their ignorance, or to
condemn their superstitions; but neither the traveler nor the
missionary seems to have succeeded in exciting the great mass of
English readers to feel either interest or, curiosity respecting their
brethren in the East.

Yet the fault seems to lie not so much in the nature
of the subject
as in the manner in which it has been generally brought forward. The
traveler confines himself to sketches of individuals, while the
missionary deals with systems, and neither represents to us, in one
single and concentrated view, the workings and developments of the
latter, as exemplified by the habits, manners, and belief of the
former. But, that I may not seem to censure in others what I have
myself been afraid of attempting, I shall endeavor as briefly as
possible to give a connected, and, I trust, impartial survey of the
state of the Christians in the Turkish dominions.

The great body of readers are by no means well
informed respecting
the various religious creeds of the East. I have heard it gravely
stated by persons of education that the inhabitants of the Turkish
dominions professed exclusively the Mohammedan faith. Few have fully
received and comprehended my assertion, that there were Christians in
the East, and even when this fact has been admitted as possible, it was
supposed that they were foreign residents, and not the natives of the
soil. To such persons, therefore, the information that nearly half the
population of Asiatic Turkey profess the Christian faith, may seem
novel and startling.

Nor do those among us who lay claim to more
extensive knowledge of
the subject appear to have entertained any clear or decided views of
Eastern Christendom. By some the latter is made to consist only of the
members of the Creek or Malekite Church, who continue, in Syria and
Asia Minor, to maintain the supremacy of the Patriarch of
Constantinople, with the ritual and customs of that see. Others imagine
the Christians of these regions to be a species of Papists, while a
third class have little more than a mere vague, undefined suspicion,
that they are a degraded, superstitious race, few in numbers, and
contemptible in influence, possessing little to excite either interest
or inquiry.

Yet there can be little doubt but that in the
Oriental Christians,
we behold the descendants of the great Asiatic nations of antiquity.
The Malekite and the Syrian represent the Syro-Macedonian race, which,
under the rule of Alexander's successors, acquired to themselves the
empire of the East. The Chaldean and the Nestorian are the only
surviving human memorial of Assyria and Babylon; while in the features
of the Persian Christian, we trace the lineaments of the ancient Magian
physiognomy. The Mohammedan religion is but a comparatively modern
superstition, and its professors, for the most part in the East, are
the descendants of the Arab invaders, or the posterity of the
barbarians of the Caucasus. The same feeling, therefore, that teaches
us to view with respect the relics of antiquity, and the tokens of
civilization, whose sway has long been annihilated, may induce its to
contemplate with interest the descendants of the mighty of our race.

Those who have studied with care the sculptured
representations of
the ancient Assyrians, and compared them with the modern inhabitants of
the plains of Nineveh, can hardly fail to trace the strong features of
affinity which exist between the robed monarchs and priests of early
days, and the Christian peasants of Bagh Sheikha and Bagh Zani.

Nor should it be forgotten that, while change after
change, and
innovation after innovation, has altered repeatedly the aspect of the
religious systems of Europe, the East has remained immovably steadfast
to her ancient traditions, and presents to the unprejudiced and
philosophic inquirer the unmistakable outlines of Christianity in the
third century. It is true, indeed, that the inward spirit has nearly
deserted the outward shrine, and too often the actual existing state of
our faith in the regions of the East bears the same resemblance to the
primitive church that the motionless corpse does to the acting and
thinking man. Yet even the sight of the dull, cold, and lifeless clay
conveys a faithful idea of the living being as he moved and spoke,
before the eyes were closed, and the soul had winged its flight.

The corruptions of Oriental Christianity have been
chiefly internal,
altering and changing little in its outward appearance, while in the
West a cotemporary of Basil or Cyprian would be chiefly struck by the
external difference which the institutions of European piety present to
the religious usages of his own day. The Romanist and the Protestant of
modern times would be equally at a loss to discover in the outward
features of Oriental religion the type of his individual creed. The
former might point with triumph to the opinions entertained respecting
the sacrificial character of the eucharist, to the veneration for
tradition and the priestly office, to confession, invocation of saints,
and many ritual observances, which bear a strong resemblance to his own
system. The Protestant, on his side, might urge the non-reception of
the theory of transubstantiation, the unlimited use of the Scriptures
by the laity, the marriage of ecclesiastics, the practice of receiving
the communion in both kinds, and last, though not least, the rejection
of the pope's supremacy. An impartial observer, whether his own views
were papal or Anglican, could hardly fail to admit that, with some
peculiar errors omitted, the external fabric of Eastern Christianity
bore no slight resemblance to the portrait drawn of the Church in early
ages. Such an one, also, might find the explanation of this
unchangeableness in the well known Oriental hatred of variation, in
their adherence to even the forms of expression used in Scriptural times45 and in the
tenacity with
which they have resisted every known attempt at innovation. Not all the
power, the bribes, or the sophistry of Rome, have been able to procure
submission to permanent alterations; and the wiser and more prudent
pontiff's have generally preferred contenting themselves with an empty
act of homage, to hazarding the risk of enforcing a more marked
uniformity between East and West. The Chaldeans or Syrians who have
acknowledged the authority of the Pope still retain their former
service, manners, and customs; their ecclesiastics marry as before, the
vernacular translations of the Scriptures are widely circulated and
thankfully perused, and a church that professes to be infallible has
proved herself guilty of manifest inconsistency by sanctioning with
approval in one place what she has been most forward to condemn in
another.

The first impression that the inquirer into the
state of Eastern
Christendom would probably entertain, when he came to reflect on the
objects of his survey, would be that the services, rites, and liturgies
of the Orientals were, in their construction, the models of a pure
Hebrew type. The form of their edifices, and the aspect, dress, and
general appearance of their priests, would almost recall the days of
the Temple worship; and the stranger who inhaled the odors of the
incense, listened to the Chaldean or Syriac tones, and marked the
sacrificial bearings of the whole service, might almost imagine himself
an assistant at one of the symbolical oblations of the Levitical law.
As his inquiries penetrated still deeper, he would meet with stronger
traits of resemblance. The threefold divisions of the churches
corresponding to a similar arrangement in the ancient Tabernacle and
Temple, the deep mysterious aspect of the Sanctuary, walled in from
ordinary view, and seen only through three narrow openings, before
which at the time of consecration a veil is frequently suspended, would
all tend to call to mind the ceremonial of the Old Testament. The
constant use in the liturgies of the term sacrifice, and its
application in various ways to the holy eucharist, gives a striking
example of the sacrificial system of the East.

Like Clement, of Rome, in the first century, the
Oriental Christians
view the three orders of the church as the successive continuation of
the Jewish hierarchy, and in all their theological works the analogy is
carefully inculcated. The Syriac, Arabic, and Chaldean terms for the
Christian altar are all derived from the same root as the Hebrew word
used in the Old Testament, and it is observable that, except among the
Greeks, the appellation of "the Holy Table" is utterly unknown. The
vestments, the incense, and the lights of the altar have been copied by
Western churches, yet they have generally contrived to change their
form or to alter their symbolical import. They have added to, or
diminished from, the original patterns, while the East has observed
them with scrupulous and minute fidelity.

Still more observable, perhaps, has been the marked
opposition
offered by the Orientals to the image worship of the West.
Interpreting, literally, the prohibition of the second commandment,
they have considered the making and adoration of statues as equally
erroneous. Until a comparatively late period, the use of any painted or
graven resemblance, even of a father or of a dear friend, although
totally unconnected with the idea of worship, would have been utterly
proscribed. The scrupulous Oriental, when he received the gift of a
crucifix from some Italian missionary, rudely tore off the figure of
the Saviour, and flung it from him with contempt and abhorrence, while
he respectfully pressed the cross to his lips, and deposited it
carefully in the bosom of his gown. The Gentile element has, since the
promulgation of Christianity, been operating more or less in the West,
while the Hebrew spirit, a spirit averse to the pictured resemblance of
any divine or celestial being, has governed and influenced the
spiritual children of the Apostles of the East,

The Eastern Christians have preserved among
themselves the only
remaining vestige of an hereditary priesthood. The Chaldean and
Nestorian patriarchs have not of late been elected to their high and
important office by the suffrages either of clergy or people. From very
early times, the unmarried uncle transmitted to a favorite nephew the
name and authority attached to the patriarchal rank. For some years,
the appellation of Joseph designated the head of the church of Amida,
an Flias ruled the clergy of the Patriarchate of Mosul, while a Shimon
or Simon presided over the rude Nestorians of the mountains. This
custom, so peculiarly Hebrew, had gained the affections of the people
to such an extent,. that its abolition a short time back by papal
authority, nearly drove the Chaldeans into rebellion.

The Orientals possess, in addition to their
patriarchs, the three
orders to be found in the English Church. But the Eastern bishop
differs as widely from the Anglican prelate in his temporal
circumstances as in external appearance. A venerable beard flows over a
long vest of purple, covered by a gown of dark cloth. His shaven head
is concealed by a black turban, twisted in a peculiar fashion, and a
darkcolored shawl encircles his waist. An attendant deacon precedes his
steps, bearing a silver-tipped staff.

The income of an episcopal dignitary would be
considered magnificent
if it exceeded one hundred pounds per annum. Few receive more than an
annual stipend of eighty pounds, and some can scarcely be said to have
any revenue at all; their necessary expenses being furnished from the
rents of lands of the monastery where they reside. The priest's income
is of course much less than that of his superior, and would be thought
fairly represented by the average rate of twenty pounds per annum. The
deacons rarely receive anything, as they are generally merchants and
men of business, from whom the canons of the East do not require the
surrender of their worldly calling, unless they wish to advance to the
higher grade of the priesthood.

The monks are supported, as in Europe, by the
revenues attached to
each monastery, which afford an ample supply for their slender wants.
By the rules of the Eastern churches, most of the laity would be
restricted from the use of animal food during nearly a third portion of
the year; but the abstinence of the monks is, of course, more rigorous
and severe. Their garb is not so varied or distinctive as that of
monastic habits of Europe. A long dark vest, resembling the common
zeboon of the country, with, perhaps, a jacket of black cloth, is the
usual attire of an Eastern monk. They are a pale, mild, and gentle
race, often ignorant and not very liberal in their views but, during
the frequent intercourse I have held with them, I never knew one who
was a hypocrite, or a secret debauchee, two characters which have been
supposed by some inseparable from the system of monachism. I have seen
these men eat, thankfully, food which the lowest of English laborers
would not touch. I have heard them engaged in praising God at an hour
when English rectors and curates have been quietly sleeping, or
returning from some pleasant social party, and I have watched them
delving and digging in their little plantations till the perspiration
poured from them in streams. Such is the idle, lazy, and luxurious life
of the monks of the East.

The poverty of the clergy may, at first sight, seem
to infer their
abasement and degradation, but the respect in which their persons are
held fully compensates for any inconvenience which they might suffer,
were they the inhabitants of more civilized countries. The stout and
prosperous merchant, the rich shopkeeper, or the stalwart squire, who
condescend to pity and to patronize the threadbare curate or the small
and ill-paid vicar, will be astonished to hear that, at the approach of
some ragged priest or bishop, a wealthy and well-dressed assembly will
rise with respect and reverence to press his hand to their lips, and to
seat him in the most comfortable corner of the diwan. Money and a home
are little wanted where hospitality is a national virtue, and it is a
priest that seeks for it in the name of the God whom he serves.

Nor are the clergy less beloved on account of their
general
familiarity and condescension to even the meanest members of their
flock. I have frequently witnessed the small room of a bishop crowded
from morning till night with the poor, the distressed, and the
unfortunate, each seeking from his spiritual pastor advice, assistance,
and consolation. The slender purse of a self-denying prelate often
furnishes many with the means of life, and those who lack the direction
of a man elevated above the passions and prejudices of the world may
find it freely bestowed by one who is, in every respect, the father of
his people.

The Christians of the East are in some measure
subject to their
clergy in civil as well as in spiritual matters. The patriarch of each
community is responsible for the Kharadj, or poll-tax paid by each
individual Christian. He even possesses the power of inflicting
imprisonment or stripes in certain cases, and it is frequently
extremely difficult for an Oriental Christian to quit his own
community, and transfer his obedience to another church.

The appointments to episcopal rank are generally
placed in the hands
of the patriarch of each church, who is, in turn, either elected by the
bishops, or succeeds to his office by hereditary right. But the chiefs
of the Christians who reside at Constantinople are frequently, liable
to deposition. They are usually the creatures of some rich and wealthy
laymen, who oblige the bishops to acquiesce in their choice. Among the
Armenians, an association of wealthy bankers generally nominate the
patriarch, while the head of the Greek Constantinopolitan Church is
more commonly chosen by the princes or archons oÇ the Fanar.
Political motives may urge the Porte to depose a patriarch, and to
exile him to the seclusion of same distant monastery. Nor are any of
the great spiritual chiefs exempt from so painful a degradation. But
these measures are seldom taken, except against the patriarchs resident
at Constantinople; and even then they more frequently result from the
cabals of the Christians and of foreign powers than from any direct
hostility to the individual on the part of the Turks.

By an edict, which dates from the period of the
Mohammedan conquest,
it has been forbidden to the Christians to erect new churches, although
those at present in existence may lawfully be repaired. ' It has not,
however, been found utterly impossible to elude this law, by obtaining
a special firman from the Sultan, authorizing the erection of new
edifices. In some cases, where the members of a Christian community
have joined another church, as was the case with the Syrians, who
submitted themselves to the authority of the Roman See, the sacred
building has been divided by a central partition and a separate end
allotted to each of the contending parties. The Jacobite Syrians,
however, made a vigorous attempt to recover possession of the whole of
their divided edifices, alleging, with some appearance of plausibility,
that they were originally the property of the sect, and could not be
alienated from them.

The force of circumstances and the character of
their Mohammedan
rulers have introduced many restraints into the domestic regulations of
the Oriental Christians. Their females appear abroad veiled in the same
manner as those of the Mohammedans, and, according to an old Hebrew
custom, they are obliged to confine themselves during the service at
church to a latticed gallery, which is frequently too distant from the
altar to allow of their seeing or hearing with comfort. I have been
told, though I trust it is an unfounded calumny, that they frequently
beguile the tedium occasioned by a worship conducted in an unknown
language, with lively discussions and local gossip on the appearance of
the males, and on the domestic concerns of their family circles. Few of
them are able to read, but the prejudice at first entertained against
female education is gradually decreasing, and we may hope soon that a
new and more intellectual generation will atone for the deficiencies of
their mothers and grandmothers.

Many of the Christians have imbibed the manners of
their Turkish
masters, and treat their wives with little consideration or respect.
Yet, upon the whole, the Christian women have more liberty than their
Mohammedan. sisters, and are not slaves to the caprices of an angry
despot. They are not liable to have their affections slighted, and
their tranquillity destroyed, by the introduction of a second wife or a
favorite concubine into their homes; nor can the marriage tie be
annulled with the same facility as among the Mohammedans. Of late
years, also, the prevalence of a better and more enlightened spirit has
secured for Christian wives and daughters a greater amount of affection
and kindness from those whom the religion of the Gospel enjoins to
render both.

Few people have met with more undeserved reproaches
from various
Frank travelers than those Orientals who profess our faith. Looked upon
as a degraded class, their acquaintance is little sought for by those
who desire to make a figure in the eyes of the rulers of the land. The
privacy of the unfortunate Christian is intruded upon, his best rooms
given up, and his finest pipes and choicest provisions deemed only the
just meed of the traveler, who, at the same time, despises and annoys
him. If he murmur, the intelligent Frank notes his remarks in his book,
as an instance of the ingratitude of Christians; if he civilly submits
to be put out of the way, his good humor is ascribed to servility. The
intoxication of one individual and the falsehood of another are made
the characteristics of a whole body; and the wandering son of Japhet
convinces himself, and would fain convince his readers, that the
Christians of the East are the worst of created beings.

Yet even if they were as evil and worthless as the
unsympathizing
strangers depict them, no slight share of the blame may rest upon their
brethren in Europe. For the last few years Turkey has been inundated
with the scum of Italy and France, with adventurers whose vices and
defects have called forth derision and contempt from Mohammedans
themselves. It is a fact well ascertained by persons resident in the
different maritime towns, that the increase of European settlers has
kept equal pace with the increase of immorality and vice.

Yet in places where he is free from the
contamination of Frank
associates, the character of the native Christian can bear the test of
a searching and impartial examination. He is neither a hero nor a
saint, though within the compass of twenty years from the present, time
the Moslem sword has been red with the blood of martyrs. Oppression has
made him servile, and ignorance superstitious, but in morality he need
not shrink from a comparison with the European professors of his faith.
Rarely will a profane expletive or the irreverent use of the Divine
name be heard from one who understands in its literal import the
precept "Swear not at all."

The Eastern Christian is generally a tender father
and a faithful
husband; he reverences his clergy, but reads for himself the Sacred
Records. Unlike the inhabitants of some civilized nations, he does not
conceive that orthodoxy resides more in a black garment than a white
one; and he can abominate idols and idolatry without being thrown into
convulsions at the sight of a cross. The perusal of the Divine Word has
neither made him a fanatic nor an opposer of the laws; and if it has
produced in him sentiments of toleration, which some may deem too.
widely extended, it is a fault that most candid observers will deem
venial.

At a time when Jews and pagans draw so largely on
our national
sympathies, it can scarcely be expected that a mere Christian should
gain much attention. The calamities of the Nestorians and their
patriarch have not even drawn a lament from those whose tender feelings
were outraged by attacks on the interesting savages of the China seas.
The murder of several hundreds of peaceful husbandmen; holding a form
of Christianity which few Protestants would consider objectionable, has
excited less interest than the story of a fugitive negro who should
invoke the genius of insulted freedom from the platform of Exeter Hall.
Yet the Christian of the East has not been entirely passed over either
by Europeans or Americans. The former have filled his country with
bishops in partibus, and missionary monks, while the latter have also
transplanted to the fat East the system of the Puritans, and the dogmas
of Geneva. The motives of both are perhaps equally disinterested and
sincere; yet they will probably end in the annihilation of Oriental
Christianity as a system.

The American missionaries have generally proved
themselves men whom
every one must respect for their sincerity and piety; but it seems
clear that their system, if successful, would be the downfall of the
Oriental churches. Divided into small sections, animated by a zeal more
fiery and unaccommodating than that which warms the colder bosoms of
the North, the prevalence of the Presbyterian system would be the
signal for universal confusion and party strife. The warm and ardent
temperament of the Asiatic would not rest content with words, and an
appeal to more potent weapons could have no other effect than to bring
disgrace upon the Christian Dame.

But the Calvinistic creed is too intellectual to
adapt or to
recommend itself to an Oriental mind. That warm and imaginative nature
requires symbolism as the guide to religious truth. It adores not
emblems, it only uses them: but still it cannot dispense with the
assistance which they convey.

Yet there is one system which professes symbolism in
common with the
Oriental, and desires to subdue all other forms of Christianity to
herself. The Church of Rome, that wonderful and gigantic power whose
footsteps are every where, is gaining daily fresh strength in the East.
Active, restless, and bold, her emissaries move from city to city with
the celerity and order of trained soldiers. They tolerate what they
have at present no strength to change, and extend at once the political
power of France, and their own authority. Possessed of a system at the
same time flexible and firm, they can in one breath proclaim their
unchangeableness, and assimilate themselves to the prejudices of the
East.

Russia protects the Greek, and France the Roman
Catholic Christians,
while the Protestant powers of Europe are to both objects of suspicion
and dislike. Yet in the event of the downfall of Turkey, a consummation
which cannot long be delayed, the Christians cannot be overlooked or
disregarded. Nearly all the commerce, trade, and money of the Ottoman
empire is in their hands. The Nestorians and the Maronites have shown
themselves equal to the fatigues of warfare and the dangers of active
strife. The power of the Christians, therefore, is not to be despised,
particularly if united by the creed of Rome into one body, and
supported either by France or Russia.

The time may come when English politicians will
regret their
short-sightedness, in neglecting to create a friendly interest in the
midst of an empire whose present dynasty must soon surrender to its
ancient possessors their ill-used and usurped dominion. When the
Russian eagle waves from the towers of Constantinople, and the French
standard floats over the dome of Omar, the rulers of England may feel
bootless and unavailing sorrow that they have treated with contempt and
indifference the important claims of the Christians of the East.46

CHAPTER XVIII

The Osmanli. Influence of Mohammedanism.
Turkish civilization. Mate
of the law. Difference of the races inhabiting Turkey. General remarks.

ONE thousand years have nearly elapsed since a horde
of wandering
Sarmatians issued from the plains of Tartary, and formed settlements to
the north of Bokhara, in a region which still retains the appellation
of Turkistan. A few scattered and wandering tribes maintain to the
present day the name of Turcoman, and the nomadic habits of their
progenitors. With their dark-colored tents, and their numerous flocks,
they roam through the fairest portions of Western Asia, and preserve
intact, in their habits and usages, the simplicity of pastoral life.
But, at the commencement of the eleventh century, the majority of the
Turcomans had quitted the mild and peaceful pursuits of their fathers,
for the more brilliant attractions of mercenary warfare. Under the
banners of the house of Abbas, they had rendered valuable service in
the Persian war, and the grateful caliphs assigned their faithful
tributaries some of the fairest portions of the conquered soil.

The new colony was no sooner settled in their
foreign abode than
they embraced with ready complacency the creed of their Arab masters.
Their previous religious notions resembled the confused and
unintelligible superstitions of those rude and barbarous tribes who
inhabit the wilds of Asiatic Russia. They professed a belief in one
Supreme Being, but they offered him neither homage nor prayers. In the
times of calamity or distress, they relied on the intercession of
certain priests or enchanters, who undertook, for a specific sum, to
remove the misfortunes or the diseases of their votaries. The Tartar
races hove generally been noted for their indifference to particular
forms of religious truth, and the Mohammedan mollahs, who set forth the
doctrines of Islam, in the name of the Prophet's vicar, found probably
little reason to complain of their new disciples.

The Persian settlement soon attracted fresh bodies
of the Turcomans,
who abandoned their wild and wandering, mode of life, and barbarous
superstitions, for the benefits of semi-civilization, and the system of
Mohammed. Thus reinforced, the original settlers became strong enough
to dispute the empire of Asia with their former sovereigns, and, in A.
D. 1055, Togrul Bey, of the Turcoman family of Salguez, trade himself
master of Baghdad; while other chiefs of his nation carried their
conquests into Asia Minor and India.

In A. D. 1065, the lieutenants of the Turkish Prince
Gelaleddin
drove the Saracens from Syria, and possessed themselves of the Holy
City, where they committed the most fearful atrocities, and aroused
against the professors of the Mohammedan faith the indignation of
Christian Europe. The Crusades followed, and for a time we lose sight
of the Turcomans, whose savage prowess was eclipsed by the conquests of
Saladdin. A few centuries later, we behold them the lords of Asia
Minor, and the masters of Constantinople.

From the period of the subversion of the Greek
Empire, the power of
the Turks began gradually to decline. Foiled in their attempts against
Europe, the Ottoman Sultans were soon obliged to confine themselves to
the boundaries of their conquered dominions. Yet even here they
possessed a scope wide enough to gratify the most insatiable ambition.
The fertile regions of Greece and Asia Minor were theirs, and the
fruitful plains of Assyria and Mesopotamia yielded to their lieutenants
a produce which, in earlier days, had been the support of two mighty
empires. The islands of Rhodes and Cyprus obeyed their authority, while
Egypt and the coast of Africa paid them at least a nominal obedience.
Wise and politic measures, introduced by a sagacious and far-sighted
government, might have rendered Turkey the first empire in the world.

But the great princes of the Ottoman race were mere
conquerors,. who
had no talent for legislation. They abandoned their tributaries to the
tyranny of pashas, who used their unlimited authority for the purpose
of amassing wealth. The Forte, indeed, exercised a species of
retributive justice, which, however, tended to increase the evil it was
designed to remedy. The plundered and desolated province found that its
tyrant was removed, and his wealth confiscated; but his ill-gotten
gains were not made use of to repair the wrongs which he had inflicted.
The whole property of the deposed or strangled pasha went to swell the
treasury of his sovereign, while, in many instances, the sacrifice of a
large sum procured for a politic offender both indemnity
and impunity. Some of the governors of provinces acquired influence
enough to defy the authority of the Sultan; and the dangerous
alternative of private assassination was substituted for a legal trial
and execution.

Yet the greatest hinderance to civilization was
probably to be
sought for in the unchanging character of the Mohammedan system. That
system was not merely a series of doctrines purely theological, which
formed a state creed, but it was the political and civil rode of the
country. The crude notions and shadowy theories of the obscure merchant
of Mecca were made the standard by which all measures were to be
tested. As long as they adhered faithfully to such a system, the
Sultans of Turkey were bound to be constantly at war with their
Christian neighbors, and to impose upon all conquered states the
alternative of the Koran, or the sword. They could scarcely tolerate,
much less reward, the ingenuity or ability of their Christian subjects.
They dared hardly, indeed, protect the latter from pillage and
injustice, since the doctors of their law had declared that, in a suit
between a Christian and a Mohammedan, the oath of the former was not
valid.

Moreover, the system of the Koran waged war against
art of every
description, and considered science, with its experiments, as another
name for magic. The superstitious dread of in ignorant populace was
easily excited, and the unfortunate innovator might atone for his
ingenuity with his life. The aid of Europeans was, for a time, rejected
with disdain; and thus, while Europe was advancing in civilization,
Turkey retained, at the commencement of the nineteenth century, the
habits and institutions of the thirteenth. Yet, with all this apparent
and external fidelity to the precepts of the Arabian lawgiver, a great
and vital change was slowly operating internally.

The first ancestors of the Turcomans who embraced
the creed of Islam
received probably the teaching of its mollahs with a mingled feeling of
curiosity and indifference. But their descendants imbibed with more
devotion and zeal the dogmas of a system which was at once attractive
to sensuality, and fostered the love of enterprise. The Turkish
warrior, aided, as he imagined, by supernatural power, fought with
redoubled fury against those whom he considered the enemies of God. If
he vanquished, and remained alive to enjoy the fruits of his victory,
the persons of his captives were at his disposal, and their ransom or
their sale in the slave-market of Constantinople produced an addition
to the ordinary booty of a victor.

He believed himself to be performing not merely a
political, but a
religious-duty, when he charged the squadrons of the
Christians, and anticipated, besides the rewards of successful warfare,
an increase of felicity in the paradise of Allah! If he fell in
conflict with the enemies of Islam, his instructors had taught him to
expect the celestial glories of martyrdom, and the embraces of the
houries in the ever verdant gardens of the blessed on high. Nor was he
at liberty to avoid or to, arrest the stroke of destiny. His cowardice,
or unwillingness to meet danger, would make little difference as to his
final fate. All the actions of his life had been decreed before his
birth, and the hand of Allah could secure him uninjured, when
surrounded by foes; or terminate his career in the midst of apparent
safety and tranquillity.

The courage of the Moslem, therefore, was a
necessary deduction from
his creed, but it ceased to animate him when his faith in that creed
was shaken or impaired. The adherent of Islam ceased to conquer when he
ceased to believe.

Moreover, the system of Mohammed is one that does
not depend, like
Christianity, on its own inherent truth for support. The doctrines of
the Prophet of Mecca are the notions of a fanatical and successful
warrior. They allure in the excitement of conflict, or in the bustle of
a campaign, but they are not suited for a season of peace and
tranquillity. The glories of Islam are only to be sustained' at the
point of the sword, and the votary who pauses for a moment in his
intoxicating career of victory, to examine critically the articles of
his faith, will soon find that the result will be skepticism or
indifference.

Nor must it be forgotten that a system like
Mohammedanism can only
be sustained by constant and unremitting success. The moment reverses
are encountered, the Moslem combatant must question, in some degree,
the correctness of the supposition that he is the exclusive favorite of
Heaven. The fanatical peasant of the interior still believes that his
great Sultan is paramount over, all nations, and that the kings of
Europe are his tributaries. Deprive him of this belief, convince him of
the superiority of the Franks, and. the charm is broken, the illusion
destroyed. He slowly awake& to the reality that his creed is not,
necessarily the same victorious and Heaven-sent system which it has
hitherto been represented, and the tenet of predestination inculcated
by it induces, in the place of desperate and superhuman courage, a
sullen and helpless submission to what is considered the will of Allah.

The European reverses of the Turks may be
considered, perhaps, as
the first step in the decline of Islam, but their acquaintance with the
rising nations of Christendom may be ranked as a more dangerous blow to
its power. It became every day more evident that, while Christian
States were growing annually more powerful, the true believer was
sinking fast in the scale of nations. Vanquished in turn by Russia and
Austria, he was only enabled to hold his ground by means of the
dissension among European powers. The French Revolution broke out, and
the apostles of infidelity disseminated, even in the Turkish capital,
their theories of liberty and equality. A modern Tamerlane conquered
Egypt, and occupied Syria; and Mohammedan pride was humbled and debased
by the consideration that the invaders of Africa and Spain were now
doomed to be invaded with impunity. A few more years of success might
have enabled Napoleon to abolish the Ottoman line, and to emulate the
Asiatic conquests of Alexander; but his downfall secured for the effect
and tottering dynasty a brief respite from their inevitable fate.
Sultan Mahmoud was a prince of some talent, and greater ambition, but
his judgment was not sufficiently solid to enable trim to discharge the
functions of a reformer. He was sensible of Frank superiority, and by
no means blind to the obstacles which Mohammedanism placed in his way,
but he fell into the mistake of supposing that the one could be
attained by the adoption of European tactics, and a European costume,
and the other overcome by diminishing the public faith in the national
religion, while he was yet unprovided with any substitute for it. A
wiser and more cautious mind would have seen that the civilization of a
country, or of a race, can only prove successful when it is a
development of what is good and valuable in earlier institutions. A
true reformer must carefully collect and segregate the good of former
ages, and, by amplifying and encouraging the influence which it already
possesses, he must make it in time overpower and nullify what is bad
and barbarous in the national institutions.

But the Sultan did exactly the reverse of all this:
He seized with
an eager and ill-judging haste upon foreign institutions, and sought to
make them part and parcel of a system entirely opposed in its character
to the usages of the Western world. The prejudices of his subjects were
shocked by what they considered the indelicacy of the Frank costume,
but Mahmoud disregarded their scruples to a degree which would not have
been ventured on by Amurath or Murad. The professor of a picture-hating
creed, he presented his portrait with great solemnity to his troops,
and caused the idol (as a conscientious Mohammedan must have termed and
considered it) to be saluted with imperial honors. His love of wine had
been common to many of his predecessors, but few had displayed their
indulgence in the forbidden liquid with such utter recklessness and
contempt for public opinion.

Still, however, Mohammedanism continued the religion
of the State,
and the Sultan had even invoked its aid, when he unfurled the sacred
banner of the Prophet, and called upon all true believers to march
under its folds against the rebellious Janizaries. But the life and
energy of the system, which once woke the warlike and courageous of
Asia to deeds of the most chivalrous valor, had long ago been suffered
to fall into decay.

The establishment of the Nizam Djedeed, or new
soldiers, completed
the ruin of Mohammedanism as apolitical system. It was tantamount to a
declaration that the tactics and evolutions of Infidel Europe were far
superior to the valor inspired by the words of the Prophet; and the
continual employment of Christians in the highest and most responsible
grades was in direct defiance to the traditions of centuries, which
restricted the profession of arms to the Moslem alone.

Thus, at the close of Mahmoud's reign a complete
change had passed
over Turkish affairs. In lieu of the costly and flowing robes of former
days, the pashas and the government officials appeared in European
uniforms, which sat awkwardly upon them, and produced, sometimes,
actions perfectly ludicrous in the eyes of a Frank. Pictures decorated
the habitations of Mohammedans, dissection was introduced into the
hospitals, much to the horror of the Ulemah, and newspapers were
established to form an unnatural coalition between the new improvements
and the Mohammedan religion.

The tidings of Turkey's advances in civilization
brought a number of
adventurers from different parts of Europe to aid in and assist the
good work. Those persons, of whom their respective countries- had grown
weary, or who, having nothing to lose, thought they must be certain to
gain something from the ignorance of the Turks, flocked in numbers to
the ill-fated shores of Islam. The Polish wanderer, whose begging
epistles and fictitious misfortunes were known to half the police of
civilized Europe, the Italian patriot or assassin, the French apostle
of Socialism and Communism, with all the scum and refuse of Europe,
poured themselves in shoals upon the unfortunate Ottomans, and for 'a
time succeeded in imposing on their credulity.

Quacks abounded in every part of Turkey, whose drugs
and lancets
destroyed more annually than the steel of their crusading ancestors.
Drill sergeants, cavalry instructors, ship builders, and all who could
minister to the newly-awakened zeal for reform, repaired to the Turkish
dominions The late arrivals pretended not to strictness of manners or
of morals. Some turned Mohammedans that they might enjoy the privileges
of polygamy; others preserved the name of Christian, only to render it
contemptible by their vices. Drunkenness and debauchery followed in the
footsteps of these European reformers, and their conduct became so
thoroughly vile and despicable that the Turks themselves recoiled in
horror from the society of these specimens of civilization. It was
observed, that in proportion as a town increased in its foreign
inhabitants, it increased in vice; and the Osmanli of the old school
alluded triumphantly to this fact as an evidence of the evil fruits of
infidel civilization.

The young pashas, and the sons of the more
respectable Turkish
families who shared the festivities of Mahmoud, gave their full support
and cooperation to his projects of reform. The study of French, of
Italian, and even of English, became fashionable, and the members of
young Turkey imbibed with assiduity the lessons of civilization from
the novels and newspapers of Europe. The thin veil of conformity to the
external rites of their religion was by degrees laid aside; and, while
the Turk of the old school observed punctiliously the stated hours of
prayer, even in the midst of the most crowded saloon, the reforming
Osmanlis retired from view, and seemed ashamed of owning that they
performed their devotions at all.

A neglect of the external precepts of their religion
was followed by
marked disobedience to its moral injunctions, and the profligacy and
sensuality of the new school far exceeded the more regulated debauchery
of earlier times. The prevalent dissoluteness has produced cruelty and
indifference to the feelings of others, and it is said that the unhappy
victims of the slave markets dread nothing so much as to be purchased
by a Frank resident, or by one of the reforming school.

Bribery and corruption have been inherent vices in
Eastern courts
since the earliest times. We find in Scripture frequent allusions to
the injustice of judges, and to the practice of biasing the course of
justice by gifts. At the present day, there is scarcely a single case
brought before the cadis, in which both plaintiff and defendant are not
made to pay largely for the administration of the law. All decisions
are drawn from the Koran; but when its text is embarrassed and obscure,
reference is made to the works of the commentators. If these fail to
render the required information, the judge places the Koran
respectfully. on his head, and gives such a decision as be deems most
in accordance with the rules of justice. Sometimes wills of a strange
and eccentric character elicit the subtilty and ingenuity of the
judicial mind. One of these appears singular enough to deserve
insertion here.

A certain merchant left in his last testament
seventeen horses, to
be divided among his three sons according to the following proportion:
The first was to receive half, the second one-third, and the youngest a
ninth part of the whole. But, when they came to arrange about the
division, it was found that, to comply with the terms of the will,
without Sacrificing one or more of the animals, was impossible. Puzzled
in the extreme, they repaired to the cadi, who, having read the will,
observed that such a difficult question required time for deliberation,
and commanded them to return after two days.

When they again made their appearance, the judge
said, "I have
considered carefully your case, and I find that I can make such a
division of the seventeen horses among you as will give each more than
his strict share, and yet not one of the animals shall be injured. Are
you content?"

" We are, O judge," was the reply.

" Bring forth the seventeen horses, and let them be
placed in the
court," said the cadi.

The animals were brought, and the judge ordered his
groom to place
his own horse with them. He bade the eldest brother count the horses.

" They are eighteen in number, O judge," he said.

"I will now make the division," observed the cadi.
"You, the eldest,
are entitled to half; take then nine of the horses. You, the second
son, are to receive one-third take, therefore, six: while to you, the
youngest, belongs the ninth part, namely, two. Thus, the seventeen
horses are divided among you; you have each more than your share, and I
may now take my own steed back again."

Few travelers can have journeyed for any distance in
Asiatic Turkey,
without having been struck with the number of ruined villages which one
encounters everywhere. Even in the great towns and cities, the quantity
of houses, either wholly or partially in ruins, is very great.
Diarbekir, Mardin, Nisibis, and Mosul were large and flourishing cities
about four centuries ago. The two former, and the latter, have very few
houses that are not in some degree in a dilapidated state, while the
whole of ancient Nisibis, which Abulte4i4: describes as an extensive
and populous town, in his time, has entirely disappeared from its site,
and a few mud hilts bear the name of one of the most powerful cities of
former days.

This fact marks the great and gradual diminution
which has taken,
place in the numbers of the population since the conquest of these
countries by the Turks. It must be borne in mind, also, that no new
cities or towns have arisen, to guppy the planes of those which have
been, and are thus rapidly sinking to decay. Should the decrease in the
population go on in the same ratio, the close of the next three hundred
years will find the whole of Mesopotamia and Assyria in as desolate a
condition as the mounds of Nineveh. Vast and uncultivated solitudes
will occupy the sites of some of the largest and most celebrated cities
of Asiatic Turkey.

The Ottoman dominions are inhabited by different
races, who,
separated from each other by various prejudices, agree in a common
hatred of the Osmanlis. The Kurds and Arabs, although sincere, if not
bigoted followers of the creed of Islam, entertain a greater aversion
to the Turks than to the Christians. The latter are divided among
themselves, but lack only union to make them formidable opponents of
the Turkish rule. Thus the enmity which exists between the several
heterogeneous materials of which the Sultan's dominions are composed,
alone prevents their combining against the common enemy. Yet the same
cause proves also an insurmountable obstacle in the way of reform.

The fear of increasing the power of one portion, or
of exciting the
prejudices of another part of their subjects, leads Turkish statesmen
to prefer a stagnant calm to the necessary agitation which projects of
useful reform could not fail of producing. An attempt to limit the
authority of the pashas might induce these governors to form projects
of independent sovereignty, which would be certain to find support from
some at least of the discontented. A chief who could stir up the old
Moslem fanaticism, either of the Kurds or Arabs, might succeed
in-detaching from the Sultan's dominions many considerable districts of
the present Turkish empire. Should the Roman Church be able to unite in
one the various Christian sects, a second Peter the Hermit might rouse
the warlike inhabitants of Mount Lebanon and Kurdistan to undertake
another crusade. The powers of Europe could scarcely with decency
refuse their aid to an enslaved population of Christians struggling to
be free.

Yet, notwithstanding all the oppression, tyranny,
and stupidity
which characterize the Ottoman rule, the individual Turk is far from
participating in the vices of his superiors, and of his government. He
is not naturally cruel or avaricious; he is a lover of his children,
and by no means an unkind husband. If the customs or prejudices of his
country, and the ignorance and childishness of Oriental females,
prevent his treating his wife in the European style, she is seldom the
victim of brutality. Our English notions respecting polygamy, female
slavery, and unfortunate wives sown up for the least trifle in a
sackful of snakes, are some what exaggerated. Fiendlike acts of cruelty
do occur occasionally, but they emanate from the pashas and men in
power, who have frequently little of the- pure Osmanli blood in their
veins. They are, generally, the sons or the descendants of slaves, or
of Georgian adventurers who have embraced Islamism.

The genuine Osmanli hates the trouble and fatigue of
power; he loves
to spend his days on a carpet, engaged in contemplation, and inhaling
the fumes of his chibouque. He is not sanguinary, except when violently
excited, and then he becomes a tiger. He is charitable to excess, and a
strict observer of the good as well as of the evil precepts of El
Islam. He is childlike in his simplicity, and loves the amusements of a
child. Yet, when once his courage is stirred up, and his blood on fire,
he will fight like a Spartan. In the field, he has always shown himself
the true descendant-of the conquerors of Asia.

Yet the Turk is conscious that his empire is waning,
and his day of
dominion passing away. On his countenance sits the shade of mute and
dignified resignation, as he observes with a sigh that the Ottoman rule
is drawing near its close. His favorite tenet of predestination,
however, serves to soothe the disappointed feelings which are provoked
by national vanity. The hand of Allah is working the decay of his
people, and it is no degradation to be vanquished by Him who is All
Powerful, With an earnestness of faith which it is impossible not to
admire, the Turk sees the working of Providence in his day of downfall
as much as in his hour of success. He only regrets that his rulers have
not suffered his nation to fall with dignity, but have sought to uphold
her by arts and customs borrowed from the Franks, which innovations he
views with a mixture of hatred and contempt. The true Osmanli would
rather meet his fate with the scimitar of his fathers in his hand than
be indebted to the Franks for instruction in warfare, only to be more
completely vanquished by them at last.

The religion of the Turk is more an affair of
feeling, of policy,
and of ancestral pride, than of intellectual conviction. He does not
study it like the Arab, nor does he share the bigotry of the Kurd. He
reveres its morality, and conforms strictly to its ritual, but he
cannot argue in its favor. Perhaps one of his chief objections against
abandoning it would be the recollection that, under its standard, his
fathers so often marched to victory. But the Osmanli of the present day
has little animosity to Christianity as a spiritual creed. He will read
with delight the moral lessons of the Gospel, and treats with the
deepest respect the names of Jesus and Mary.

Under a good government, and enlightened by
Christianity, there can
be little doubt but that the Osmanli race might be greatly improved.
They are honest, moral, and courageous. Their faults proceed from the
workings of a depraved and corrupt system of tyranny, based on the
absurdities of a false and contradictory creed. In order, therefore, to
improve or to exalt the Turks as a nation, Mohammedanism must be
destroyed. It is not merely a religious, but a political system. It is
entwined with the whole fabric of Turkish law. Every act of reform is a
blow inflicted upon it. Some have thought that it may be modified or
adapted to new measures, or confined to the limited sphere of a mere
moral code. But all acquainted with the character of Islamism, must be
aware that it cannot be reduced to the level of a series of
philosophical or religious dogmas. Its motto must always be "aut
Caesar, aut nullus."

To assert that part of an inspired code is false or
erroneous is to
infer the falsehood of the whole. If the Prophet erred, and deceived
mankind as to his political regulations, might not his revelations
affecting ritual and morals be equally untrue? The impostor of Mecca
legislated for a small community, and for a barbarous age: he could not
foresee the extension of his system, or the causes which would lead to
its ultimate decay and ruin. He aspired to teach men, not only
religion, but politics and civil law. He would fain have been a second
Moses, but he forgot that the object of the Mosaic regulations confined
them to a single nation, and to a certain limited period. But it is the
fault of all false systems to grow obsolete in the course of time. The
divine origin of Christianity is best proved by its elasticity--by its
power of combination with every varied form of political authority. He
who could foresee the changes which would take place in the governments
of this world, and adapt his system to meet every exigency, must have
been more than man.

There are, at present, however, many difficulties in
the way of the
abolition of Mohammedanism. According to Turkish law, a convert to
Christianity would suffer capital punishment, and the dread of this
might operate as an obstacle in the way of any missionary efforts. The
Christians of the East require themselves instruction and
enlightenment, while, from the long period of slavery and degradation
which they have sustained, they would be ill suited to communicate a
knowledge of the Gospel to the haughty Osmanli. The latter would look
coldly on the mysterious dogmas and bare ritual of either American or
Dissenting Protestantism nor perhaps might the worship of the Church of
England be sufficiently showy and symbolical to attract an Eastern
mind. The Roman Church would, perhaps, have more advantages and
attractions; but the veneration of pictures and images must come in
contact with the Hebrew element, which appears so conspicuously in all
modern Oriental forms of religion. Perhaps, however, the Turks could be
induced to receive the teaching of the Gospel, and embody it in a
church system of their own. This would be more successful than the
attempt to force upon them any of the rituals of Europe.

There remains a most important question for the
politicians of our
age to decide, and that is, '° What shall be done with Turkey?" It
is impossible that she can continue in her present state for many years
longer. To attempt to introduce reforms while the Mohammedan religion
is dominant, will result in nothing but disappointment. On the other
hand, the question of partition is attended with many practical
difficulties. The jealousy of the great powers must always hold each
other in check; and extensive colonization on the part of either would
be viewed with suspicion, add excite, it may be, serious opposition
from the rest.

A Christian kingdom could hardly be formed in the
present divided
condition of Oriental Christendom; and it could not be maintained
without foreign aid. Nor has the experiment tried in the case of Greece
produced such results as would encourage politicians to repeat it in
Asia. Union among the Christians might lead to something, but this
union could only be effected, humanly speaking, under the auspices, of
the Church of Rome; and then French influence would be predominant.

Yet something must be done, and the sooner active
measures are taken
to arrest the progress of decay and desolation the better. My own
experience of the Turkish character would lead to the conclusion that
the abolition of Mohammedanism, and the introduction of Christianity
among them, might yet operate favorably on the destinies of the Osmanli
race. European influence could easily obtain the repeal of the
barbarous and inhuman statute which fetters the liberty of conscience;
and. the Turks, freed from the shackles imposed by the creed of the
false prophet, would be at liberty to adopt and to carry out measures
of wholesome reform. The manly and common sense features of the race
would be allowed free scope, and the educated and enlightened Osmanli
might yet occupy no mean position among the nations of the earth.

Our prejudices against the cruelties, barbarities,
and perfidy which
have characterized the government, must not blind our eyes to the
virtues of the individuals who suffer from them. The Turk has been the
victim of a bad political system, and of a sensual and immoral creed;
yet honesty and morality have not entirely forsaken him. Placed by the
side of the false, treacherous, and deceitful Greek, he shows to
advantage, even by the confession of the most prejudiced of travelers.
His vices are the vices of his education; his good qualities are his
own.

Whatever may be the difficulties which beset the
arrangement of the
Eastern question, it is to be hoped that the present state of
stagnation and decay may speedily be put an end to, and that we may see
once more the blessings of civilization and true religion extending
themselves over the fairest and most fertile regions of the habitable
world. The knowledge that thousands of oppressed and miserable beings
are turning their eyes towards their European brethren for succor and
deliverance should awaken in our hearts the emotions of sympathizing
humanity, and induce us to do our utmost to procure for them such
assistance as may relieve them from their present state of destructive
inaction and ruinous decay.

CHAPTER XIX

A Syrian Catholic Church. Journey to
Arbela. Alexander and Darius.
Arbela. The Jew. The Christians of Shucklawa. Return to Mosul.

THE longer I resided at Mosul, the more intimate I
became with
different individuals among its Mohammedan and Christian inhabitants.
The Orientals require very few of those ceremonies of introduction
which are considered so important by Englishmen in every part of the
globe. Leave to enter a house, a seat on the diwan, a pipe, and coffee
may easily be obtained by the merest stranger in an Eastern town who
understands the manners and language of the country. Some reserve is
practiced by Mohammedans, who rarely cultivate the society of
Christians, but this coolness, which is founded entirely on religious
prejudice, is rapidly dying away.

The nature of my mission to Mosul rendered it
desirable that I
should study both the tenets and the ceremonies of the Eastern
churches. 'their Sunday service usually commenced at six o'clock in the
morning, so that I had frequent opportunities of attending the
celebration of their rites, as our own prayers did not begin till
eleven o'clock.

On one occasion, a friend of mine, who was a Syrian
Catholic priest,
and the rector of a church near to my abode, invited me to be present
at the morning service. I went, accompanied by Toma, but found on
arrival that Kas Yusef had made preparations for receiving me which did
not exactly accord with either my expectations or my tastes. I had
anticipated a seat on the matting among the congregation, and, indeed,
had already taken possession of a quiet corner, when a message from the
priest arrived that I would "come up higher." Somewhat surprised, I
followed the messenger, a deacon, behind the stone screen which divides
the sanctuary from the choir. Beside the altar was a large chair lined
with tarnished velvet, in which, notwithstanding my protestations and
remonstrances, I was almost forcibly installed. Neither priests nor
deacons would hear of my sitting cross-. legged among the
people.

"It is not your custom," said they; "we know that
Franks cannot
dispense with chairs; so sit down quietly, and Kas Yusef will show you
the places, and Deacon Matthew shall stand by to explain what is going
on."

It was in vain I protested that I needed neither
explanation nor
aid, and even quietly hinted that the before-mentioned gentlemen might
be much better employed; my friends would hear of no excuse. A large
volume was pushed into my hands, Kas Yusef turned, from time to time,
over the leaves, to Point out the different places, while Deacon
Matthew kept up a running commentary sotto voce in Arabic on the Syriac
service. I received several fumigations with the incense, and after all
was over, I made a vow that I would never again go in state, as it
were, to an Oriental church. Afterwards, I used to walk in without
notice after the service had begun, and take my seat in some obscure
corner, although many of my native friends, both clergy and laity,
objected seriously to my proceedings as undignified.

The affairs of the Nestorians continued in an
unsatisfactory and
unsettled state, but an order was obtained from the Turkish government
that the numerous captives should be set at liberty. This intelligence
was received with no small degree of concern by those who had purchased
any of the Nestorian prisoners, and some endeavored to elude compliance
by leaving Mosul and the vicinity with their late purchases. Every
measure, however, that could be taken to prevent their departure was
put in operation, and numerous slaves were in this manner rescued from
a cruel and hopeless captivity.

One day, intelligence came that several captives had
been removed to
Arbil, the ancient Arbela, and, as it was more than probable that the
governor of that town might be bribed to connive at their being
transported beyond the Turkish frontier, my friend B---- determined to
go down there in person, and gained from me a willing consent to
accompany him. We left home at about two o'clock in the afternoon, and,
after three hours' ride, reached Bagh Tolli, a large village of
Syrians, direct east from Mogul. To the north-east of the village was a
range of hills, at the foot of which is situated the monastery of Mar
Daniel, mentioned frequently in the pages of Assemani. The ruins of
four churches attest the former, extent and populous condition of Bagh
Tolli, but, like all towns and villages of Asiatic Turkey, its
inhabitants have very much diminished in point of numbers. They were
suffering also from internal dissensions, for nearly a fourth part of
the families in the village had joined the papal Syrians, a
circumstance which excited perpetual bickerings and ill feeling.

At about five miles distance from Bagh Tolli, we
came to the banks
of the Hazir, a branch of the greater Zab, and generally identified
with the ancient Bumadus. Near this river, Qumtus Curtius tells us that
Darius had encamped on the eve of that decisive battle which decided
the fate of the Persian monarchy. He had crossed the Tigris some miles
to the south of Nimroud, and, passing through Arbil, had forded the
Lycus, or Great Zab, from the banks of which he marched to the Bumadus,
where he halted to await the coming up of Alexander.

The fertile plains of Mesopotamia were then
experiencing the sad
consequences of warfare. A band of six thousand Persian horse had been
ravaging the country to the west of the Tigris, by the express orders
of Darius, and the mouldering flames which had consumed the produce of
those fruitful fields were emitting dense columns of smoke as the
Macedonian army passed along.47
A dark and mist like cloud hovered over the blackened relics of.
cultivation, and induced the invaders to fear the existence of an
ambush between themselves and the Tigris. Their scouts, however,
reported that the road was clear, and Alexander reached and forded this
rapid stream, in the mid-channel of which the water came up to the
horses' necks.48

The passage of the Tigris was effected without the
slightest
molestation from the enemy. It took place some miles to the south of
Nimroud, although the historian does not mention the crossing of the
Zab by Alexander. A bold and decisive policy would have suggested the
ford of the Tigris as the place of battle, but it was the fate of
Darius to suffer from the vacillation and indecision of his counselors
and of his own mind. Another alternative lay before him, which perhaps,
indeed, he intended originally to have adopted. Not far from the banks
of the Bumadus rose the mountains of Kurdistan, within whose winding
and intricate defiles he might have laughed to scorn the efforts of his
pursuers. Among the names of the numerous Persian auxiliaries, we find
the Cadusii mentioned, who were probably the Cardusii or Carduchii, the
old antagonists of Xenophon and the an ancestors of the modern Kurds.
If these wild people, themselves of Persian descent, had been disposed
to receive within their mountains the last monarch of their race, a
small and select band would have sufficed to arrest the progress of the
invaders. Entangled among the rocky regions Kurdistan, they would have
been exposed to dangers, against which, both their courage and their
discipline might have proved inadequate to defend them. It is probable,
however, that this design, if, indeed, it was ever entertained, was
frustrated by the temptations which the nature of the ground between
the Hazir and the Zab offered to one whose principal force consisted of
horsemen.

The union of the two rivers forms a species of
delta, the
superficies of which is covered by mounds and slight undulations,
presenting few or no impediments to the irregular movements of Eastern
cavalry; yet*the uneven nature of the soil might seriously interfere
with the complicated manoeuvres of the phalanx, justly esteemed the
chief strength of the opposing host. The site seemed one of the most
favorable that could have been chosen for the display of the principal
advantages possessed by the Persians, and Darius might, without
incurring the reproach of vain confidence, have flattered himself with
the hope of complete success. The result, however, is too well known to
need repetition. The same sun which had shone on the gayly-accoutred
ranks of the Persians, and had received their adoration, was destined
to behold their defeat. Before he had sunk below the horizon in the
west, Darius was crossing the Zab, a hopeless and despairing fugitive.

Doctor Grant has suggested, and the notion is not
void of
plausibility, that the Syriac name of the neighboring district, Beth
Garmae, which means literally the house or place of bones, derives its
origin from the sanguinary contest which was known afterwards as the
battle of Arbela.49
The
historians who have recorded it mention the village of Guagaumela as
the nearest inhabited region, but there are, at present, no traces of
such an appellation in the immediate vicinity.

After a ride of two hours and a half from Bagh
Tolli, we reached the
ford of the Zab, which is opposite the village, of Kellak.
This rapid and dangerous river derives its present name from the
Chaldean word signifying a wolf, with which also its Greek appellation
of Lycus corresponds. It probably owes its title to the violence with
which its waters rush along when the mountain-rivulets have been
swollen by the rains, and discharge their streams into its channel. At
these seasons, it is considered dangerous to cross, and very frequently
rafts and horses are borne along with impetuous force into the Tigris,
with which the Zab effects a junction near Nimroud.

The mode of transit is very simple and of ancient
date. A rudely
constructed raft rests upon inflated skins, and, in this manner,
conveys not only passengers, but even heavy merchandize across the
river. The horses swim over, guided by a man who supports himself on
two small inflated skins. The rafts are the same as those used at
Mosul, which periodically descend as far as Baghdad with passengers and
goods. When they undertake this latter journey, however, a small but or
cabin is formed of branches and boughs of trees, beneath the shelter of
which the traveler reposes during his voyage. At night, the rafts
anchor near the shore, and, are sometimes exposed to the visitations of
unwelcome intruders.

On one occasion, a gentleman had secured one of
these rafts at
Mosul, and, at first, found no reason to repent of his choice. His
cabin was comfortable enough, and reclining on his temporary diwan, he
found himself able to while away the time with a volume of
Chateaubriand. A small window of the side of his but was generally left
open towards evening to admit any passing breeze that might feel
disposed to, enter and beguile the tedium of an anchorage which
presented a few attractions to the eye.

The first evening of his voyage, M.---- thought he
might enjoy the
prospect, and surveyed it from his window. But he saw nothing but a
continuation of barren plains reaching down to within a few yards of
his raft. With a shrug, he retreated to his diwan, lighted a cigar, and
was soon engrossed by the charms of "Atala." Suddenly, his aperture was
darkened, a dark countenance with shaggy hair intruded itself, and a
rough voice growled out in no very courteous tones the fatal syllables,
"Backsheesh." M.---- was, at first, much alarmed, as he had some
valuable property about him, but recovering his presence of mind, he
stepped out on what I may call the deck of the raft to reconnoiter the
numbers of the enemy. They consisted of three half naked Arabs, who
stood holding the raft, with the water up to their waists. M.----
thought, at first, of cutting his cable and gloating off, but he
perceived that the raftmen were half dead with fright, and he feared
the result of an attempt to escape. He determined, therefore, to parley
with the foe, and, being a good Arabic scholar, entered into
conversation with his captors, and, after a little discussion,
succeeded in obtaining their concurrence in his departure by the
welcome present of a few pounds of Mosul tobacco.

The sons of Ishmael transferred the much-coveted
luxury to the
shore, where they sat smoking nearly half the night, and the next
morning saluted their late captive with loud acclamations and good
wishes as he floated off gayly, congratulating himself upon his
fortunate escape.

We were nearly an hour crossing the Zab, and found
the current very
violent about midway. After strenuous exertions, however, we arrived in
safety at Kellak, but, with the exception of one or two old men, the
village had been entirely deserted by its inhabitants. Those who were
left behind informed us that a band of predatory Kurds, having paid
them a visit the day before, had plundered the village and murdered two
of the people, on account of which all the survivors abandoned their
dwellings and took refuge in Arbela.

"Those Kurds are true sons of the Accursed," said
the ferryman;
"when Mohammed Pasha, peace be upon him, was alive, they dared not have
made free with even the sole of an old slipper. He has gone now, and
every thief of a Kurd that can muster a dozen idle rascals together
makes up for lost time by spoiling honest people, and taking their
lives if they resist."

"But the pasha was an oppressor, and a tyrant," I
observed.

"It is true," was his reply; "yet still he kept the
country quiet,
and these Kurds within their mountains. We never saw their ill-favored
visages in our neighborhood before, may confusion light upon them! As
for oppression, O Efendi, we are used to that, and probably may suffer
as much, or more, under the next pasha, as we did under him that is
gone. Still it is something to wake in the morning with a whole throat,
and not be roused up at midnight with your roof all on fire, your women
screaming, and your children spitted like Kabob on the spears of those
unclean sons of darkness. Heavy taxes are bad, but they are better than
all this."

I felt much disposed to agree with the sentiments of
the worthy
ferryman, who, however, was a native of a village on the other side,
and after expressing my hope that they might remain free from a similar
visitation, I mounted my horse, and rode on to rejoin my companions,
who were some distance in advance. As I proceeded, I could not help
contrasting the feelings which an occurrence like that above mentioned
would excite in England, with those produced by it in this country. In
our own land, a single murder would be the talk of the whole
neighborhood, but here the violent death of two persons, and the
plunder of a village, seemed too much of an every day event to create
much notice. The people who were only a few miles distant from the
scene of the atrocity professed their utter ignorance of it.

It was now near evening, but as we had not deemed it
prudent to pass
the night at Kellak, in consequence of the attack by the Kurds, we rode
on to Tov Zawa, a village of about fifty houses, situated on the
southern bank of the river. We had but poor accommodations here,
however, and were glad to leave it the next morning at half-past nine.

For a short time, we followed the course of the Zab,
having on the
left a range of law hills, which intervened between us an the river. At
length our road bore round in an easterly direction, and we passed the
villages of Oghlan, Kiouy Itch, and KiouyJaghan, arriving at
Ain Quawa about 2 P. M. The latter place is situated on an extensive
plain, bounded to the north-east by low hills. The inhabitants were
nearly all of them Christians of the Chaldean Church, and ardently
attached to the sway of Rome. One of their priests visited us to ask
whether or no the English were Christians. He gazed on an Arabic
translation of our Liturgy with wonder and surprise, but made no
comments upon it.

Near Ain Quawa we observed several plantations which
were irrigated
in a singular manner. A number of wells had been sunk, each at a small
distance from the other, which supplied water to the cultivators. These
were connected with each other by a species of aqueduct or channel
beneath the surface. The reason of this strange arrangement did not
appear, but its origin was ascribed to very early times.

We could discern clearly and distinctly the mound
and minaret of
Arbil from Ain Quawa, and an hour's ride brought unto the suburb of
that town, where the chief object deserving of notice was a broken
tower, which serves as a landmark for many miles around. This tower,
which is attached to the ruins of a mosque, resembled greatly in size
and shape the round minaret at Mosul, connected with the dilapidated
building still bearing the name of the Prophet George. The latter
inclines almost to the same extent as the leaning tower of Pisa, the
fashion of which was probably introduced from the East. The minaret at
Arbil probably measured about 120 feet in height, and was surrounded by
three rings of a bluish color, which were probably intended to
strengthen the shaft. I made an attempt to ascend the staircase, but
found it so dark and blocked up with rubbish, that I desisted.

The aspect of Arbil is rendered imposing by the
elevation of the
upper town on an artificial mound about 150 feet in height, the sides
of which are plentifully covered with marshmallow. The lower town is
built in a straggling way at the foot of the mound, in the vicinity of
which fragments of the old wall are still visible.

We were quartered at the house of a Turkish bin
bashi or colonel, in
the lower town. Our host was absent, but his wife commanded the
servants to furnish us with everything that was necessary. He had
married two ladies, one for the sake of interest, and the other for
affection, but his servant hinted that his time was not pleasantly
spent between them. Each had her own separate establishment, with
servants and slaves attached, and the bin bashi was at present residing
in the house of his other wife. Great jealousy existed between the two,
and all the arts of espionage and intrigue were resorted to, in order
to discover when a present had been made by the husband. If he gave a
black slave to the first, the second thought herself wronged if she did
not obtain two, and thus every outlay that was made in one quarter was
expected to be doubled in the other. With these continual demands on
his pocket, it may be imagined that the matrimonial happiness of the
poor man was very small, but he had to undergo in addition the humors
of his two helpmates. Incensed by mutual animosity, each regaled his
ear with abuse of her rival, or insinuations, that his love for her
personally was not sincere. Daggers and cups of poison, which in
England we regard as harmless figures of speech, are not unfrequently
used more literally in Turkey, and the death of a husband or a rival
may very commonly be traced to the jealous fury of a slighted and
suspicious woman.

On walking out to inspect the lower town, we found
the principal
streets intersected by gutters three feet in breadth, and traversed at
intervals by small bridges of brick. The houses seemed for the most
part to be constructed from the latter material, and were covered with
a species -of whitewash or cement. On the eastern side of
the mound we perceived some sepulchres covered with domes, and
resembling in shape doubtless those whited tombs of which our Saviour
spoke, when he cautioned-his disciples against the hypocrisy of the
scribes and Pharisees.50
The form of these chambers of death varies in different parts of the
East. In one place four walls inclose and protect from intruders the
stone sarcophagus which contains the ashes of the departed; while in
another, the dome is supported on pillars only, and the sides are left
open. When the latter is the case, the sepulchres frequently serve as
asylums for the poor and houseless, as well as for thieves and bad
characters.

Beyond these tombs we found some gardens and
vineyards, stretching
out into the plain and affording a pleasant retreat for the townsmen
during the heats of summer. There is nothing so much delights an
Oriental as to "make kaif."51
With his trusty pipe under his arm and his tobacco pouch in the breast
of his gown, he sallies forth from the dark and narrow streets of the
town to the suburbs, where an assemblage of trees or vines, enclosed by
a low wall or fence from the road, obtains the name of "bostun" or
garden. If a running stream passes through the midst, all the better;
and if a troop of jugglers or strolling musicians should be attracted
thither, their presence will add materially to the satisfaction of the
kaif makers.

Stretching his carpet under a tree, the Oriental
gazes with half
shut eyes on the ripple of the water, or watches with apparent interest
the curling vapors which ascend from his chibouque. There is nothing of
the gay boisterous merriment of Northern Europe, none of the light
vivacity of the South, connected with an Eastern merry-making. They
meet to smoke, perhaps also to drink some beverage stronger than
coffee, though this is seldom to converse and to listen to the oft-told
stories which they have laughed or shuddered at times without number
before. No women mingle with their unbendings, for it is considered
wrong for the two sexes to mix together in public, though among the
Christians this feeling is passing away. When evening comes on, they
retire to their homes, pleased and gratified with a day's kaif, while
apparently so little has occurred to call forth either pleasure or
satisfaction.

As we returned, we passed through the bazaar in the
lower town. It
was a miserable collection of stalls arranged in rows, forming alleys
partly open and partly covered with boughs and dry leaves. A great
crowd came to stare at us as we walked along, who bestowed from time to
time no very flattering comments on our costume. As we proceeded; we
observed an altercation going on near one of the stalls, which was
destined to terminate in no very pleasant manner. The owner of the
shop, a tall and portly-looking Jew, of about thirty years of age, had
given dire offence to a customer, who, though yet in his teens, was a
true believer, and deter mined to exercise the privileges of one. After
heaping on the poor Jew many stinging epithets of abuse, in a shrill
and piping voice, the urchin raised his small hand and struck the man
on the face. The insulted shopkeeper could almost have annihilated his
assailant with a single blow, but his hands were tied by the
degradation of his people. He received the cuff with quiet submission,
raising only a most dismal howl, which he hoped, perhaps, might excite
the compassion of his opponent. The boy seemed at first rather startled
by his own act, but soon recovering his composure, he spat in the man's
face, and departed.

"That young scapegrace merits richly the bastinado,"
said I to one
of the governor's attendants who accompanied us.

"He is a sheitan, that boy," was his reply; "but
then you know, O
Effendi, that he is young, and the other is only a Jew."

Only a Jew! A Mohammedan will often excuse even
murder in this
manner, and think no more of it than of the slaughter of a bullock.
There was a time when they would have said only a Christian, but they
have been soundly beaten since then into a little more forbearance. Yet
a few years ago, no Frank could enter Damascus in his own dress, or on
horseback, without being exposed to the insults of the mob. The first
European who ventured there with a hat on his head obtained the
undignified surname of Abou'l Tanjara, the father of a pot.

After we had taken a little repose, we sallied forth
to visit the
upper town. It has two entrances, one of which faces the north-east,
while the other is due south. We ascended by the side of the mound,
passed over a drawbridge, and entered a dark narrow gateway, which
brought us into the courtyard of the castle. Around the outer rim of
the mound, the backs of the houses, being joined together, formed a
species of rampart enclosing the whole of the upper town. When we
reached the court-yard, we found it occupied, as usual, by groups of
armed attendants, kawasses, and Albanian irregulars, who all looked
very fierce and ferocious, with their long mustachios, which they
twisted to and fro between their fingers as though they were handling
the hair of the slain.

The Governor of Arbil was seated in the upper corner
of a long room,
decorated with warlike devices, and filled with the chief people of the
town.

He was a young man for his station, but had been
appointed to it as
a distant relation of Mohammed Pasha. We took our seats, and, during
the coffee and pipes, the usual conversation ensued.

How did we like the country?

Praise be to God, we liked it very much. Did we
intend staying?

Inshallah, we might, or we might not.

Was England a large country, and was it true that
the English were a
species of Mohammedans, and broke images wherever they found them?

These and other similar questions, with which I will
not trouble the
reader, having been responded to in a satisfactory manner, the
conversation turned on the Nestorian captives, whom his excellency
promised at parting, on his head and his eyes, should be forthcoming at
Mosul in the course of a week. I am happy to be able to add that he
kept his word, and we enjoyed the gratification of welcoming another
band of rescued captives, and of witnessing their interview with those
of their relatives who were already in the city. Tears ran down the
sunburnt cheeks of the poor creatures, as they embraced and kissed each
other, pouring forth all the warm and tender epithets of Oriental
affection; mothers clasped their daughters to their bosoms, and
husbands hailed once more the partners of their homes, freed from the
stern and degrading yoke of the Moslem. The partriarch watched the
meeting, but, as he lifted up his hand to bless the new comers, his
emotions overpowered him, and he wept aloud.

But I must now return to Arbil, where a scene of
confusion has taken
place since our' absence at the castle. The whole of the lower town has
been thrown into a dreadful state of alarm by the report that two
horses, who were quietly feeding near the minaret, have been carried
off by the Kurds. The inhabitants anticipated nothing less than a
general attack and indiscriminate massacre from the barbarians of the
hills. A large crowd had assembled, and were discussing measures of
defence before our door. By acid by the exclamations of Mashallah had
progressed to Inshallah, and at last terminated in "Baccalum."52 Public
confidence was,
however, in some measure restored by the announcement that the chief of
the police had secured one of the thieves, and was bearing him in
chains to the dungeon in the upper town.

Soon after the capture had taken place, a Christian
arrived from
Shucklawa, a town situated on a mountain of the same name, about a
day's journey from Arbela, bringing tidings of a shameful outrage which
had just been perpetrated by the Kurds of the neighborhood. During the
vigorous administration of Mohammed Pasha, the Christians of Shucklawa
had lived in peace and amity with their Moslem neighbors. When his
death, however, became generally known, the Kurds, animated by the
success of their late enterprise against the Christians of the bills,
determined on introducing a little persecution into the hitherto quiet
community. Their hostility against the detested Nazarenes was inflamed
by the persuasions and harangues of a mollah of their own race, who was
by no means deficient in that fanatical bigotry which rages in the
breasts of the majority of his brethren.

The Christian inhabitants of the village were
peaceful cultivators,
who had learned to bear oppression with a patient shrug. They had
shared in none of the warlike measures resorted to by the Nestorians of
the hills. As Chaldean adherents of the See of Rome, they were little
disposed to sympathize with heretics, had their courage even impelled
them to active resistance. But this mattered little, for they bore the
hated name of Nazarene--that title which awakens the bitterest
animosity in the bosom of a true Moslem. The mollah hated the
Christians, and determined, in some way or other, to gratify his
feelings of enmity against them.

An ancient church, which some said had been first
erected in the
fourth or fifth century, stood within the confines of the village. At
its simple altar thousands of the forefathers of the humble Christians
had knelt to celebrate the most sacred rites of their religion. In the
hymns and psalms of the inspired Psalmist, they had forgotten their
toils, and felt, for a time at least, the yoke of slavery less bitter
and less galling. It was the only relic that bound them to the
past--that recalled the old days of independence and freedom. Its
furniture and sacred utensils offered no temptation to the spoiler. A
metal cup and a paten of less value served for the celebration of the
Holy Communion, while their tattered Liturgies were so worn, that the
priest was obliged to trust to his memory for the holy word's of
prayer. Above the altar a plain cross of stone reminded the pious
villagers of the mysteries of their redemption, and of their own daily
lot of suffering.

Into this church, a band of Kurds, headed by the
mollah, forced
their way in the night, beat the aged priest, who, by the light of a
single lamp, was praying for his slumbering flock, snatched the cross
from the altar, and dashed it with curses on the stone floor. They tore
up the Liturgies, carried off the sacramental cup and paten, and
committed in the sacred building actions which I will not pollute my
page by describing.

Next day the frightened and insulted Christians
contrived to send
news of what had happened to Ain Quawa. The priest of that village was
well known to the French consul at Baghdad, who, on hearing of the
outrage, dispatched immediately his dragoman to the spot to make
inquiries. Two witnesses were required, but such was their fear of the
Kurds, that none of the Christians dared venture to accompany the
dragoman to Baghdad, although the mollah boasted openly in the vicinity
of his valorous achievements, and hinted, even, that he was willing to
repeat the offence. At length two men, who had no families, on whom the
Kurds might wreak their vengeance during their absence, consented to go
and bear testimony before the Pasha of Baghdad. It was understood,
however, that they were not to return to Mosul until more settled
times.

The Eastern Christians look always to French
authorities for
protection against the tyranny of their enemies, nor can they be blamed
for so doing. This protection, however, renders them devoted adherents
to the French interests, and in the event of the dissolution of the
Turkish empire, their aid might be valuable. England could, if she
would, at little trouble to herself, secure the friendship of the
non-papal Christians, and render, in this way, some important services
to humanity. Did the people of England but know what cruelties are
often practiced on their fellow Christians under the wretched rule of
the Turks, the national benevolence, for which they are so justly
celebrated, would induce them to make some strong representations on
the subject to the Foreign Office.

Our interference on the behalf of the unfortunate
Rayabs is a
measure demanded imperatively from our national justice and
Christianity. It would cost us nothing, not even a war-like
demonstration. Mohammedanism is too feeble to require the influence of
arms; its rulers are not sufficiently attached to it to hazard any loss
on its behalf. A simple order to our consuls to protect and assist
Christians unjustly oppressed is all that would be requisite.

We left Arbil the next morning, after the capture of
the
horse-stealer, and, after riding seven hours and a half, reached
Kermalis, a large Chaldean village to the north of the Zab, which is
supposed by some to have been the Gaugamela of those historians who
describe the actions of Alexander. It is clear that the battle must
have taken place on this side of the Zab, as Quintus Curtius expressly
mentions that Darius crossed that river in his flight to Arbela. Yet
for my own part I should feel disposed to place it farther east, and
nearer the Hazir or Bumadas.

We arrived at Mosul in safety, but unfortunate news
awaited me at
home. I bad been presented with two young gazelles, of great beauty,
whose natural shyness I succeeded, in some measure, in overcoming. They
would eat out of my hand, and often beguiled a heavy hour by their
playful and sportive gambols. During my absence, they had ascended to
the terrace, and were diverting themselves there, when my servant
suddenly made his appearance above, and gave chase to them. The seared
and terrified animals bounded away, and in their attempt to leap over
the vacant space between the terraces, they fell upon the hard stones
in the court below, and were almost instantaneously killed.

CHAPTER XX

Journey to Nimroud. The sabre. The
priest's tale.

SOON after my return from Arbil, a Russian traveler
arrived at
Mosul, who was anxious to make a few excursions in the vicinity. As,
however, he had been somewhat fatigued by solitary journeys, he was
desirous of securing my company in his intended trip. I had placed one
of the rooms of my house at his disposal, and finding that he was
likely to prove an agreeable compagnon de voyage, our arrangements for
a short excursion were soon made, and carried into effect.

We obtained from the executive of Mosul the services
of a government
kawass, hired posthorses, and engaged a tall Chaldean, named Baho, to
act as a guide and general servant. At 10 A. M. we had got our baggage
safely arranged on the backs of two stout beasts of burden, and were
preparing to mount, when my friend B and Kas Botros volunteered to bear
us company as far as Nimroud. In Oriental travel the well-known proverb
of " the more the merrier" is not without weight; and we gladly
welcomed this addition to our party.

My old friend Mohammed had come in to smoke a
morning pipe, and was
much astonished at all this bustle in the court yard.

"Are you going back to Ingelterra?" inquired he.

"Not this time, my friend," I said; "we are merely
going to Mar
Matti, to Nimroud, and to Rabban Hormuzd."

"Mashallah!" exclaimed my old companion, "what
people these Franks
are! Here have I been living for twenty years in Mosul, and have never
gone further, during that period, than to the Mound of Nebbi Yunas.
Surely you cannot be in your senses to change this comfortable diwan
for a rough saddle and a stony road. Then you will meet Kurds,
Yezidees, and other obscene sons of Satan, who may rob you, or cut your
throats. Allah knows, Khowajah Yacoub, whether I shall ever smoke
another pipe in your house."

I endeavored to quiet his fears by the assurance
that he would most
probably see my face again in a week; and with this consolatory remark
I rode off. My Russian friend had fully equipped himself for the
dangers of the road. Two small pocket pistols hung suspended by a
silver chain from his belt, in which were deposited two others of
larger size, while by his side swung a heavy cavalry sword. Our
servants were also armed, but I myself had neglected to take any
weapons of offence or defence. I had not proceeded the length of the
street, however, before I heard a voice calling me from behind. I
stopped my horse, and, turning round, beheld Mohammed, in a state of
breathless exhaustion, carrying a formidable sabre.

"Take at least this with you," he gasped, as he came
up with me.

"O Mohammed," I exclaimed, "I am not afraid of the
Kurds or the
Yezidees; and besides, if a great number attack me, it would be worse
than madness to resist."

But Mohammed had settled in his own mind that I
could not be safe
without a sword; and that the sight of one, even though resting
peacefully in its scabbard, would scare away whole legions of the
much-dreaded Kurds and Yezidees. I yielded to his entreaties, and
consented to accept the loan of the formidable weapon.

"It is a true Shami,"53
said be, as I fastened the belt; "take it, and go in peace."

When we arrived at the bank of the river, we found a
ferry boat had
just come in with some Albanian mercenaries. Nothing could be more
repulsive or ruffianly than the general appearance of these men. Their
features were wan and sallow, the effects of unlimited debauchery,
while their garments hung loose and ragged about them. The white kilts
had become brown, and the lace of their jackets was torn and tarnished.
They gazed upon us with marked ferocity, and would doubtless have felt
great pleasure in cutting our throats, and rifling our baggage. They
had just returned from laying waste three villages, and carried with
them several strings of human ears, which were afterwards suspended
near the chief gate of Mosul.

We crossed the Tigris, and directed our course along
its eastern
bank, in a southerly direction. After we had ridden on in peace for
some time the sky grew dark and louring, and gave unmistakable
intimations of a heavy shower. We spurred on as fast as we could, but
all our efforts were ineffectual to avoid the rain, which soon began to
pour down in torrents, and was accompanied with hail stones of an
enormous size. Holding a hasty council on the top of one of the
neighboring mounds, we speedily agreed as to the necessity of seeking
for shelter, but it did not appear clear in what direction we were to
commence the search. At length some one remembered that, not far from
our present rendezvous, he had once encountered a small collection of
huts, entitled Hawah Arslan, inhabited by Kurds. A run was accordingly
made for the village, the poor, astonished post-horses were urged at a
most unusual rate over the downs, and, after a brisk ride of an hour,
we reached our destination, as wet as if we had stood for some time
under a shower-bath.

The habitation which was allotted to us was a
wretched but,
constructed of stones of all shapes and sizes, plastered with mud, and
covered with a roof by no means impervious to the rain. At last, we
found a dry spot whereon to kindle a fire, which was effected with no
small difficulty, as the wood brought in for our use was green, and
showed a decided antipathy to fire. After we had changed our clothes,
we sat round the small table cross-legged, and demolished a pillow with
much appetite and satisfaction, though the rice was none of the
cleanest, and abundantly mixed with small stones.

After dinner, the fire blazed up nobly, and we
prepared to spend-the
evening as comfortably as we could, though the rain, which occasionally
worked its way through the roof, by no means improved our position. By
and by, the elite of the village came in to pay us a visit. We gave
them some coffee and tobacco, they sat down with us, and we all became
very good friends in a few minutes. They sang Kurdish songs, and told
Kurdish stories about robber chieftains, who lived in castles perched
on the wild crags of their native land. These gentlemen seemed to
resemble the "barons bold" of our own early ballads. They were not very
honest, nor very scrupulous. They had a decided penchant for cutting
off heads, and carrying off unfortunate damsels, while they were by no
means wanting in rude wit and dauntless courage. The listeners drank in
eagerly the tales of these good old times, and seemed to think them
much better than the present. Perhaps they were right.

My friend Kas Botros was accustomed, not without
reason, to pique
himself upon his story-telling abilities. Few events could happen that
did not draw from him some anecdote or recital. He was by no means,
therefore, disposed to sit a silent listener to semi=barbarian tales,
and determined on taking the conversation into his own hands. The
Kurdish villagers who understood Arabic were willing to listen, and the
worthy Abuna thus began:--

"There lived, many years ago, a Sultan who was one
of the most
prosperous of men. He bad gold, jewels, and wives without number, the
choicest meats were placed upon his table, while lute players, with
voices sweeter than that of Israfil,54
poured forth the most delicious sounds for his amusement and for the
entertainment of his chosen guests. Three hundred sons and two hundred
daughters claimed the honor of being his offspring, and the beauty or
good qualities of each had been duly celebrated by the four hundred
poets, who extolled in every species of verse the greatness and
felicity of so sublime a monarch.

"What could he wish for more? Yet the nature of the
sons of Adam is
insatiable, and desires ever something new. The monarch grew weary of
his pleasures; the gratifications in which he had formerly delighted
disgusted him; and he sighed for the knowledge which is unlawful, and
the possession of those secrets which Allah has wisely hidden from the
children of men. By degrees be fell into a deep melancholy,
diversified, however, by fits of irritation. The poet who ventured to
celebrate his felicity in a new copy of verses was told that he was a
liar for his pains; while another of his brethren, who presented to the
monarch on his birthday a new poem, which he had expected would produce
a gold dinaraline, received a serious bruise from the royal slipper,
which the impatient Sultan had hurled at his head. The indignant man of
letters went home and composed a satire on the ungrateful prince, which
he sold to one of the Sultan's enemies for two hundred pieces of gold.

"Withdrawing himself into the deep solitude of his
gardens, the
dissatisfied monarch pondered over his situation, and his desires. The
fairest of his wives appeared to comfort and, console him.

"'Light of my eyes,' said she, I wherefore art thou
sad?'

"'Plague of my heart,' he replied, 'why art thou
troublesome? Surely
the chattering of women is more intolerable than the croaking of the
green bird of El-Hind. Begone, O daughter of the tongue, and leave me
to my meditations.'

"The fair Shems-en-nahar was about to try the
expedient of a shower
of tears, but the pearly drops were arrested by the growing blackness
of the royal brow. She saw that it was no time for trifling, and
withdrew.

"'Wali!' she exclaimed to herself, as she departed,
'our lord is
surely, medjnoon.'55

" The monarch bent his eyes on the ground, in moody
silence, when a
slight agitation in the neighboring bushes attracted his attention. He
raised his bead, and encountered the sharp, half malicious gaze of a
frightful dwarf, with a hump-back and a disproportioned nose, yet
habited in rich and costly apparel.

"'What do you here, O Father of Ugliness?' said the
Sultan, laying
his hand on his sabre.

"'Fear not, O king of the world,' answered the new
comer, with a
hideous grimace, which he intended for a condescending smile. 'I and my
brethren have long watched with interest your desires, and the
melancholy which at present consumes you. We would fain assist and
satisfy you; but people of our species never grant favors without
expecting somewhat in return.'

"'What tribute would you require as the reward of
your help?'
eagerly inquired the Sultan.

"'We will not deal hardly with you, O king,' replied
the dwarf; 'we
can grant you all you desire, with the condition that, on the twelfth
day of each month, at this present hour, you present yourself in this
place, and, as an act of homage, place on the ground three bowls of
milk. You must take notice, however, that this must be done by
yourself, and by no other person.'

"'That is easy enough,' exclaimed the Sultan; ' I
consent, with many
thanks, to the compact.'

"'Take then this ring,' said the dwarf, 'and beware
that it quits
not your finger, for know that if it touches water all that drink of
the rivers and streams in your kingdom will instantly become mad. While
you are the wearer, your most arduous wish will be obeyed.'

"'Hearing and obedience,' replied the Sultan, as he
received the
ring.

"It contained a single diamond, remarkable for its
size and lustre:
the king bent down his head to examine it, and when he again raised it
the dwarf was gone.

Delighted with his new acquisition, the Sultan
determined to put its
powers to the proof. He wished to view the desert city of Suleiman Ibn
Daood, and immediately he found himself in the midst of its great
square; he desired to stand on the summit of El Kaf,56 and behold he was surrounded
with clouds, and saw the gigantic birds of those regions flying along
many miles below him. Nay; it is said that on one occasion curiosity
led him as far as the centre of. the earth, where he watched the
gambols of the subterranean genii, and heard an assembly of Dives
disputing learnedly on the properties of the seal of Solomon.

"The tempers of most people improve when they
succeed in obtaining
their own way, and our Sultan was no exception to the general rule. His
politeness and affability delighted every one, Shems-en-nahar was in
raptures, and even the discontented poet forgot the affront of the
slipper, and, finding that he could not conveniently recall the satire
he had sold, indemnified the monarch by composing one doubly bitter
upon the purchaser.

"For some time, the king adhered faithfully to the
terms of the
compact, and presented with laudable regularity the appointed tribute.
His fear of the dwarf, however, had greatly worn off, and he began to
consider with himself the propriety of performing his homage by proxy.
Unfortunately for his own peace, he had intrusted his wuzeer, Ibn
Fadel, with the secret, and the crafty minister, who had been bred in a
college of mollahs, treated his master's scruples with polite derision.
He represented to his majesty that it was but too great honor for a
misbegotton dwarf to minister to the amusement of so great a king;
that, in fact, the ring and its wonderful powers were but a ransom for
a life justly forfeited by unwarrantable intrusion into the sacred
precincts of the court; and finally, that kings, as the vicegerents of
Allah, had undoubtedly a right to do what they thought proper, and were
not bound by the same ties of obligation or gratitude which influence
common men.

"'But my promise, O wuzeer,' remonstrated the
Sultan.

"'Gracious sir,' argued the minister, 'this
individual, whoever he
may be, is doubtless one of the unbelieving, and therefore all promises
or oaths made to him are null and void. Nay, for aught we know, he may
be one of that accursed race of Eblis, so frequently denounced by our
holy Prophet, and whom, as the known enemies of true Mussulmen, we are
bound by our religion to persecute to the utmost of our ability. Do not
give yourself, then, the trouble to perform so irksome a duty, but let
one of your slaves undertake the office in your stead.'

"The king was irresolute at first, but at length he
yielded to the
arguments of his wuzeer, and, calling a trusty slave, he commanded him
to carry the three bowls of milk to the appointed place. The slave went
and returned, but reported that nothing extraordinary had happened.

"Said I not well, O king of the world?' observed Ibn
Fadel, with a
self-complacent simper.

"The Sultan felt a pang of inward reproach as he
thought over what
had passed, but he determined not to give way to his feelings.

"'I will go forth and make kaif,' said he.

"A brilliant cortege was soon on horseback, and
issuing from the
portals of the palace. Shems-en-nahar, and the ladies of the court,
followed in curtained carriages, drawn by oxen.

"The cavalcade proceeded to a delightful grove on
the banks of the
river, which intersected the capital city of the Sultan's dominions.
Here the Sultan and his male courtiers dismounted, and seated
themselves on the grass, while Shemsen-nahar and her ladies proceeded
farther on to some gardens which overlook the river, where, in a superb
pavilion lined with diwans, they enjoyed their kaif, guarded by the
zealous eunuchs of the harem from the profane gaze of any intruder.

"The Sultan grew more cheerful as the time flew on,
and he quaffed
goblet after goblet of Shiraz wine. When he first sat down, he thought
he traced a strange-looking form lurking among the trees, and had even
mentioned it to the wuzeer, but the latter, after a careful search,
reported that no one could be found in the vicinity who was not of the
court, and the monarch gave himself up to merriment.

"In the mean time, Shems-en-nahar and her ladies
were reposing after
their bath, while some of their slaves played and sang for their
diversion. The music was disturbed by a knock at the-door of
the pavilion. A female slave opened it, and gave admittance to an aged
woman of loathsome and repulsive aspect.

"'I would speak with the Sultana Shems-en-nahar,'
said the old
crone.

"'What do you desire of me?' said the lady, arising
from her diwan.

"'I must deliver my message to you alone,' replied
the new comer;
'cause these to stand apart.'

"The ladies withdrew to another apartment of the
pavilion, leaving
the old woman with the Sultana. The latter then turned an inquiring
glance on her visitor.

"'Queen of the world,' said the crone, 'you must
have noticed with
surprise the strange change which has taken place lately in the king,
your husband, but you will be more astonished and pained when you hear
the cause. Know, then, that a daughter of the djin has fallen in love
with him, and is beloved by him,, while you, are marked out as a
sacrifice to her. jealousy, unless you take measures to
avert your doom. Happily, however, the remedy is in your own power. The
djinee has given the Sultan a ring, which both attracts his affections
and binds his destiny indissolubly with hers. If you can pluck off the
ring from his finger, and throw it into yonder stream, the spell will
be broken, and his love will be restored to you.'

"The ladies of Shems-en-nahar were alarmed by a loud
scream, they
returned to find their mistress alone, and lying in a fainting fit on
the diwan. They applied the usual remedies, and sent one of the eunuchs
to acquaint the Sultan with what had occurred.

"The king came hastily, for he dearly loved
Shems-ennahar, and felt
deeply anxious on account of the tidings which he had received. She
revived as soon as she heard his voice. What aileth thee, O my eyes?'
inquired the monarch.

"'Nothing, O my lord,' was the reply, ' but the
weather is
oppressive, and I am fatigued with bathing.'

"She took the hand which was graciously extended to
her, and, while
pressing it to her lips, affected for the first time to notice the
ring.

"'What a beautiful diamond! may I examine it?' she
asked.

"The Sultan, in his anxiety, had forgotten the
caution of the dwarf,
and he was desirous to do everything in his power to soothe his fair
Sultana. He drew the ring from his finger, and placed it in her hand.
She started up from the sofa with the bound of a gazelle, and, opening
the window of the pavilion, cast the fatal gift into the river.

"'Now the, spell is broken, and thou art wholly
mine!' she
exclaimed, as she threw herself into the Sultan's arms.

"The monarch stood for a moment mute with terror, as
the
consequences of the fatal act flashed across his mind; then, uttering
an imprecation on his own folly, he pushed her rudely from him, and
rushed from the pavilion.

"When the unfortunate Sultan returned to his
companions, he found
them indulging in all the wild freaks of insanity, with goblets in
their hands, which at once betrayed the cause of their conduct. They
laughed, shouted, sang, and danced: respect was thrown entirely aside,
and those who had shown in former times the most slavish deference to
the monarch were now most forward in their familiarity. Plucking his
beard with sorrow, the Sultan fled into the recesses of the neighboring
wood, where he found Ibn Fadel, who had secured himself from the
temptation of drinking water by imbibing a considerable quantity of
wine.

"The king and his minister held a hasty
consultation, the result of
which was that they both determined to retire to the palace, and
endeavor, by digging, to discover a spring on which the malediction of
the dwarf would take no effect. They returned to the palace, and
repairing to the gardens, they dug for some time, till at length they
came to a spring, which they resolved should supply their present
necessities, as the curse had power only over the rivers and cisterns,
which existed at the time it was pronounced. They soon found, however,
their condition most solitary and desolate, for every one had abandoned
the palace. Once or twice they ventured abroad, but were driven back by
the scofs and jeers of the crowd, who shouted after them "There go the
madmen." They attempted to reason with their persecutors, but in vain,
for all the insane were convinced that their prince and his wuzeer were
mad. To such an extent did this opinion prevail that it was agreed
among the citizens that a physician should make a visit to the two
unfortunates in the palace. The man of medicine came; he was
distinguished by a long beard, and the gestures of a mountebank; and
the Sultan, in reply to his questions, bade him indignantly go home and
heal himself.

"The physician's report was, of course, unfavorable,
and his remedy
for the madness of his two patients would not have been unworthy of the
Avicennas of a more civilized age. He ordered that the king and his
wuzeer should suffer the daily infliction of fifty pails of water, and
receive each a hundred, stripes, till they acknowledged themselves to
be mad. At the end of three days, this regimen began to work wonders,
and the king said to the wuzeer

"'O, Ibn Fadel, let us drink of the water of the
river, and become
even as the rest, for of what avail is our reason, if we are persecuted
for being mad? My soles are sore from the bastinado, and my garments
flow with water even as fountain; yet the consciousness of my sanity
will neither heal the one nor dry the other. Surely the poet has wisely
said that, "if a wise man would dwell in peace among fools, he must
also become foolish."'

"The wuzeer agreed fully with the sentiments of his
sovereign; they
both drank of the river, and the next day were received with
acclamations by a grateful and frantic crowd."57

CHAPTER XXI

Tell-Nimroud. Monastery of Mar Bob nam.
Khoorsabad.

THE conclusion of the priest's story was a signal
for the departure
of our visitors, who seemed well satisfied with their entertainment. We
now thought of retiring to rest, but it was no easy matter to parcel
out the mud floor among four people. One found that when he had
selected a place which seemed suitable, and had spread his coverlet
upon it, a small hillock, which he never observed before, prevented his
reclining with comfort. Another discovered that a pool of water
occupied the greater part of his allotment, while a third gazed with
gloomy forebodings on the suspicious appearance of the roof, which
seemed likely to admit the rain during the night. At length we made our
arrangements, and were fast sinking into the arms of Morpheus, when the
storm of rain and hail commenced anew. Our coverlets were soon flooded,
and we determined to sit tip for the remainder of the night' in the
dryest corner of the hut. To our great relief, morning dawned at last,
and we prepared to resume our journey.

We rode along over a succession of small mounds,
each containing, it
may be, no inconsiderable portion of the relics of old Nineveh, until
we reached a village of mud huts, about a mile and a half distant from
the Tell, or mound of Nimroud. This village is situated near the apex
of the delta, formed by the junction of the Tigris and the Zab, about
twenty five miles to the south of Mosul. From hence, after a slight
rest, we proceeded to the Tell -itself, which has since been the scene
of Mr. Layard's discoveries.

Tell-Nimroud consists of an assemblage of mounds,
the highest of
which is of a pyramidal form. As we rambled over the grass-clad
eminences, we discovered from time to time fragments of bricks
inscribed with the cuneiform character. We talked of M. Botta's
discoveries, and I remarked to our Russian companion, half in jest, the
probability of finding some Assyrian relics in the mound over which we
were walking.

"Let us try," said he, laughing, as he drew from its
sheath his long
sabre, and converted it into a temporary spade. The infection of
investigation seized us all. Swords and a spear or two, which we
borrowed from some of the villagers, were put into requisition, and we
were soon busily engaged in turning over the soil. A few bricks were
the reward of our labors, but as we, shortly became fatigued with such
desultory work, we left off and returned to the village.

The sheikh, in whose house we had taken up our
abode, inquired
earnestly what treasure we had found, and was much disappointed when
assured that we sought for nothing of the kind. He appeared half
incredulous, and asserted with emphasis that Franks were too wise to
travel all that distance to look for old stones.

The Tell of Nimroud and its lately discovered
treasures have excited
so much interest that I trust I may be pardoned if I interrupt the
course of the narrative to bestow a few remarks on the identity of this
site with that of the ancient city of Rehoboth, mentioned in Genesis,
x. 11.58

It is evident from the sculptures which have been
discovered at
Nimroud, that these mounds were in ancient days occupied by some large
Assyrian city. Major Rawlinson, in his interesting paper on Assyrian
Antiquities, quoted in the athenaeum of January 26, 1850,
assumes that the ruins of Nimroud represent the old city of Calah, or
Halah, while he places Nineveh at Nebbi Yunas. Yet it appears likely
that the ancient Calah, or Halah, which was probably the capital of the
district of Calachene, must have been nearer to the Kurdish Mountains.
Ptolemy mentions the province of Calachene as bounded on the north by
the Mountains of Armenia, and on the south by the district of Adiabene.59 Most writers
place Ninus, or
Nineveh, within the latter province. But if so, Adiabene would include
also Nimroud, and, therefore, it is not probable that Halah, or Calah,
could have occupied the site indicated by Major Rawlinson. Saint
Ephraim, himself a learned Syrian and well acquainted with the history
and geography of the East, considers Calah to be the modern Hatareh, a
large town inhabited chiefly by Yezidees, and situated N. N. W. of
Nineveh.60
Between
Hatareh and the site of Nineveh, we find a village bearing the name of
Ras el Ain, which is evidently a corrupted form of the Resen of
Genesis. It is worthy of remark that this theory confirms the statement
made in Genesis x. 12, where Resen is represented as occupying a midway
position between Calah and Nineveh. But assuming Major Rawlinson's
hypothesis to be correct, it is clear that there would be no room for a
large city between Nebbi Yunas and Nimroud, a distance of, at most,
twenty-five miles.

Nor is it certain that the latter may be considered
as the site of
the Larissa of Xenophon. A considerable interval must have taken place
between the passage of the river Zab by the Ten Thousand, and their
arrival at the Tigris. It is expressly mentioned that they forded a
mountain stream, which seems to have been of some width, soon after
they had passed over the Zab. But no vestige of any stream of this kind
appears between Nimroud and the Tigris. It is probable, therefore, that
the xapaapa of Xenophon was the Hazir or Bumadas, after passing which,
the Ten Thousand marched in a north-westerly direction, past the modern
village of Kermalis to the Tigris. At a short distance from the latter,
they encountered a ruined city, which Xenophon terms Larissa, and which
occupied, probably, the site of the modern Ras el Ain. The village
known by this name is about twelve miles from the Tigris, but the
ancient city may have been much nearer.61

Both Ptolemy and Ammianus Marcellinus mention a city
situated at the
mouth of the Zab, on precisely the same site as that occupied by the
mounds of Nimroud, which they term Birtha, or Virtha. But Birtha, or
Britha, in Chaldee, signifies the same as Rehoboth in Hebrew, namely,
wide squares or streets, an identity in name, which seems to imply also
an identity in locality. It appears likely, therefore, that Nimroud is
the same as Rehoboth, which, it is said, Asshur founded after his
departure from the land of Shinar.

On leaving Tell-Nimroud, we directed our course
eastward, towards
the village of El Khudder, in order to visit the ruined monastery of
Mar Behnam. We arrived there in about three hours and a half, and found
only a few mud halts situated near the convent. It had formerly
belonged to the Syrian Jacobites, but, from want of funds, they had
been obliged to abandon it. The church and the dwellings of the monks
were still in a very perfect condition.

Near the monastery was the tomb of Mar Behnam,
situated in a
subterranean chapel, covered by a dome, which rises, as it were, out of
the ground, and resembles, at a distance, a hillock or mound. We
descended by a flight of stone steps, but the passage was so dark that
we required the aid of torches to find our way. The chapel below was
circular in form, and was lighted by lamps of silver, suspended from
the roof. In the wall were several recesses, containing the sarcophagi
of Mar Behnam, and several other saints who lived about his time. On
each tomb was an inscription in Syriac, stating the name, age, and
station of the occupant.

The odor of the incense, which was daily burnt in
this chamber of
the dead, served to relieve, the close atmosphere of the vault. We were
informed that numbers of pilgrims made an annual visit to the tomb, and
took away with them portions of the dust of the place, which is
esteemed a specific for all kinds of diseases.

Mar Behnam was a Persian by birth, and his sepulcher
is mentioned by
John of Mardin as having been, in his day, famous for the miracles
performed there. The people of the village gave us, during our stay,
the following account of him:--

In the reign of Shapoor the Cruel, King of Persia,
the chief of the
Magi had a son, whose name was Behnam. This youth was- beautiful in his
person, and famed for preeminence in all active exercises. Shapoor
himself distinguished him by special notice, and all- things seemed to
predict, a favorable destiny to one who was so generally beloved and
admired.

During the reign of Shapoor, the Christians met with
bitter
persecution, and numbers of them were daily led to execution. Among the
unhappy victims was a young female slave, who had been brought up in
the family of the chief of the Magi, and had been specially attached to
the service of his daughter, the sister of Behnam. Before they led the
young girl to the place of execution, she desired earnestly one last
interview with her mistress. The daughter of the chief Magus remained
several hours in her company, and when she returned to her father's
house, she avowed to her surprised and indignant parent that she had
been induced to embrace the Christian faith, and was, indeed, a
baptized member of the Christian Church.

Unwilling to behold his daughter dragged to prison,
the chief of the
Magi confined her in one of the chambers of his house, and directed her
brother to visit and argue with her on the folly and guilt of
abandoning the religion of her ancestors. But the young Christian
defended her new creed with such ability and zeal that Behnam was
himself overcome, and, after a vain attempt to stifle his convictions,
he sought and obtained baptism at the hands of Mar Symeon, the
Christian bishop.

Shapoor grew daily more and more inveterate against
the Nazarene.
Hundreds suffered martyrdom rather than renounce their faith, nor could
age, rank, or station, protect any from the tyrant's rage. At length,
Behnam was informed that his secret had been discovered and betrayed.
He had not as yet made a public profession of Christianity, and the
absence of his father, who had been obliged to quit home for several
months, had hitherto prevented his non-attendance on the Magian rites
from being observed.

On hearing that his change of religion was
discovered, he determined
to fly from Persia, and to take up his abode among the inaccessible
mountains of Kurdistan. Accompanied by his sister, he quitted the land
of his birth, and found a residence in a cave situated near the summit
of one of the Assyrian mountains. From this place, he descended into
the plains of Nineveh, and taught the faith of Christ to the peasants
of Athoor. But his zeal and success awakened the animosity of the
Magian priests, who seized upon Mar Behnam and his sister, and put them
to a cruel and lingering death.

At the village of El Khudder our party broke up. My
Russian friend
and I pursued our journey to the convent of St. Matthew, while B----
and Kas Botros returned to Mosul.

From Mar Matti we went on to Shiekh Adi and Rabban
Hormuzd. After
passing a few hours in Alkosh, we returned to Khoorsabad, where we took
up our quarters in the house which M. Botta had erected near the
excavations. The workmen had made great progress since my last visit,
and several chambers had been discovered connected by galleries or
passages, through which we wandered, and contemplated at our ease the
wonderful relics of ancient Assyria.

On entering the excavations, we found ourselves in
the middle of a
hall, which probably formed the reception-room of the palace. Part of
the left wall was in a very perfect state. On the first tablet was
portrayed a siege; two kneeling figures, with bent bows, were shooting
at the defenders. The same subject was continued in the second slab:
two kneeling archers, clad in mail, were discharging arrows against the
defenders of the fortress, who appeared on the ramparts. One of the
latter was hurling a missile over the heads of the other two, who were
bending their bows to repel the assault. On the right wall of the
apartment the figures were much defaced, but I traced the outline of a
chariot with horses. The trappings of the steeds seem to have been of a
most costly description, and were well executed. A neck ornament, which
resembled in form a tassel, had each thread distinctly marked. In front
of the chariot was a quiver with arrows.

From the hall, we entered a passage or gallery,
which had formerly
been adorned with sculptures, the remains of which were adhering to the
earth. To the right of this gallery, we entered a second apartment,
containing three figures in long robes, the borders of which were
adorned with rich fringes. Returning to the gallery, we explored it to
the farthest extremity, and arrived at the entrance to another large
apartment, on each side of which were two quadruped sphinxes, with
large wings. On one of these I observed a long cuneiform inscription.
To the right of the entrance was the figure of a man with the head of
an eagle or hawk, which has since been supposed to represent the god
Assarac or Nisroch. The sphinxes were in an excellent state of
preservation, and bore the marks of coloring.

Returning towards the entrance hall, we explored a
passage to our
right, the first two tablets in which were covered with inscriptions.
We found here a group of captives with chains round their -ankles,
kneeling before a figure in royal robes. Behind these was another
company of prisoners erect and in chains. The upper part of the tablet
was defaced, so that all the figures were headless. I thought, as I
gazed upon them, that they might have represented the captives led away
by Sennacherib from Syria and Palestine. Major Rawlinson supposes that
a monarch named Sargon was the founder of Khoorsabad, and this
appellation is found in Isaiah, and is thought to have been applied to
Sennacherib.62

Passing onwards, we entered another large chamber,
on the left hand
wall of which were two warriors on horseback. To the right we found a
tablet representing two horsemen with lances, preceding a chariot, in
which were two figures, but the whole was very much defaced. In a
passage to the right of the chamber was the figure of a warrior in a
chariot, the two horses of which were led by attendants. Above this
group were several inscriptions. Along this gallery, the earth on each
side was largely mingled with fragments of stone.

We returned to the large apartment, and proceeded
along the left
hand gallery, where we found nothing except earth, and pieces of the
broken tablets which had adhered to it. We retraced our steps and came
to another gallery leading off to the left. In this we saw several
defaced figures in long robes, with inscriptions above, and in some
cases underneath, the groups. A little farther on, we found three
figures in long robes, a warrior in a chariot, with slaves leading the
horses, and a great number of inscriptions. We had now reached the
extremity of the excavation, and were obliged to return.

With his usual kindness and liberal feeling, M.
Botta had permitted
my Russian friend to take copies of the inscriptions, and we set to
work damping large sheets of brown paper, which we pasted as it were on
the tablets, pressing them down as much as possible, and then allowing
them to dry. By this means we succeeded in obtaining impressions of
nearly all the inscriptions; after which we returned to M. Botta's
temporary house, where we found every accommodation had been provided
for us.

The use of the cuneiform character seems to have
been common to the
ancient Assyrians, Chaldeans, and Persians. It was in these letters
that the Babylonian sages recorded their astronomical observations, and
the Assyrian monarchs their triumphs and warlike exploits. Herodotus
mentions two columns set up by Darius at the entrance of the Bosphorus,
on one of which was recorded in Greek, and on the other in Assyrian
characters, the names of all the nations who served in his expedition.
These pillars were carried of by the Byzantines, who, after the usual.
Greek manner, despised the monuments of barbarians, and used the stone
for building an altar to Diana. One of the tablets was left near the
temple of Bacchus, a short distance from Byzantium.63 It is probable that these
Assyrian letters were the cuneiform characters, since we find them used
by the ancient Persians at Persepolis. After the Macedonian conquest,
the Greek language and characters displaced the wedge-formed writing,
and even the sages of Chaldea, if we may judge from the example of
Berosus, found it necessary to study and to use the dialect of their
rulers.

M. Botta met with much opposition in the course of
his researches.
Mohammed Pasha showed himself decidedly hostile to his undertaking, and
while he received him with smiles and good wishes, he sent private
intelligence to Constantinople, that the French consul was building a
fort. The cacti and mufti of Mosul were not slow in aiding and abetting
any project that might irritate and annoy the misbeliever. They stirred
up the people of Khoorsabad to remonstrate, and these poor peasants,
who would gladly have sold the whole of their miserable huts twenty
times over, were made to utter fine sounding and pathetic appeals
against the wicked Frank who was undermining their mud cabins.

Fortunately, however, for M. Botta, he obtained all
the support and
assistance which his government could afford him. When the success of
his excavations was communicated to the Academie Frangaise by M. Mohl,
that learned body applied at once to the minister of Public
Instruction, and obtained for M. Botta the grant of ample funds to meet
all necessary expenses, together with the valuable aid of an artist, M.
Flandin, who was directed to proceed to Mosul, and take sketches of
such sculptures and inscriptions as seemed unlikely to bear removal.

Most heartily do I wish that it was in my power to
commend a similar
act of liberality on the part of the British government towards Mr.
Layard; but this active and enterprising traveler, after having made
discoveries double the value of those at Khoorsabad, has been left to
experience the same coldness and neglect which have rewarded every
English discoverer since the clays of Belzoni. With the exception of
Sir Stratford Canning, whose liberality and good feeling on this and
other occasions cannot be too highly praised, I have heard of no
English official who seems to have taken the slightest interest in the
labors by which Mr. Layard has enriched our national museum.

CHAPTER XXII

Remarks on Assyrian History.

THE early history of the Assyrian empire seems
involved in great
obscurity, while even with regard to the later period of its existence,
few writers agree among themselves. The history of Ctesias bears
evident marks of falsehood, although it is probable that all he relates
is not entirely void of foundation. Herodotus is a safer guide, but the
particulars which he furnishes are necessarily few, as he seems to have
compiled a separate history of the Assyrians, which has unfortunately
been lost. In making a few remarks, therefore, on the foundation of
Nineveh, and other matters connected with the rise and decline of that
great nation of which it was the capital, I must be considered as one
who is roping his way through a region full of darkness and obscurity,
and is often in danger of mistaking shadows for realities.

The etymology of the name Nineveh seems, in some
degree, to indicate
its vicinity to the mountains of Armenia, on which the ark rested after
the deluge. The first syllable, nin, or nun, implies, in the Semitic,
languages, any floating substance, and was, for that reason, used
afterwards to signify a fish. The suffix, neveh, or nook, has generally
the signification of a resting-place or habitation, whence we may
consider the name Nineveh as indicating the rest of the floating vessel
or of the ark. It is likely that the sons of Noah would erect some
memorial of their' escape on their descent into the plains; and Asshur,
who completed, or perhaps founded Nineveh, could hardly select a more
appropriate title for his new city. The attempt to identify Ninus with
Nimrod must do violence to all chronology, even if we admitted the plea
urged by some--that Nimrod founded Nineveh, and that its appellation
was taken from his Assyrian name, Nin or Nun.

It must not be concealed, indeed, that some have
read Genesis x. 11,
as if it referred to the going forth of Nimrod into the land of Asshur.
Jonathan Ben Uzziel, in his Targum, renders the verse thus: "And Nimrod
having gone out from that land, reigned in Assyria because he was
unwilling to join himself with the builders of the tower (of Babel) and
to agree with them; wherefore God prospered him, and in the place of
the four cities which he had left, he gave him four other ones, namely,
Nineveh, Resen, Rehoboth, and Calah."64

Yet it seems more probable to imagine that Asshur,
from whom the
region called afterwards Athoor or Assyria evidently takes its name,
was the person who founded this city, more especially as he lived a
generation earlier than Nimrod; the beginning or capital of whose
kingdom was Babel. And here it may be worthy of inquiry whether the
Babel of Genesis is the same city, or occupies the, same locality with
the Babylon of a later period. The similarity of the names will not
prove an identity of position, since we, know that there existed a
Babel or Babylon in Egypt. It would certainly seem more natural that
the descendants of Noah should have settled themselves near to the
mountains on which the ark rested, than that they should have emigrated
three hundred miles through arid and desolate plains, to the site of
the later Babylon. Admitting the identity of the plain of Shinar with
that of Sinjar, the northern position of which seems to be established
by the Karnak Tablet,65
we may fairly infer that the Babel of Genesis occupied a position
farther north than that region which was afterwards known by the name
of Chaldea.

In the course of a journey from Nisibis to Jezirah,
I passed a small
village not far from the latter, which still bears the name of Babeel.
It stands in the plain which extends to the south of Nisibis, and to
which the Arabian geographers apply the title of Sinjar. Within a day's
journey from the mountains, it is not improbable that the sons of Noah
might have pitched their tents on this fertile plain, where their
descendants afterwards built a city on which was conferred subsequently
the appropriate title of Babel, or confusion. The early emigrants from
the plain of Shinar, who colonized Egypt, carried with them the,
recollection of the cause of their exile, and erected in their new
country another Babel which might recall the memory of Shinar.

The Babel of a later period seems to have been
founded by Semiramis;66
nor does this view appear at
all repugnant to the testimony of Scripture. In Isaiah xxiii. 13, it is
said, "Behold the land of the Chaldeans; this people was not, till the
Assyrian founded it for them that dwelt in the wilderness: they set up
the towers thereof, they raised up the palaces thereof." This passage
must refer to the foundation of a city, nor do we know any city of the
Chaldeans which more fully answers to the above description than the
later Babel or Babylon.

Nor does it seem probable, from the words of
Scripture, that the
Babel mentioned in Genesis survived for any length of time the
confusion of languages and the dispersion of mankind. It is expressly
stated that they left off to build the city,67
while all traditions agree in affirming that the first Babel was
destroyed by a storm. In no place do we read of Babel as a kingdom
until the time of Hezekiah. A king of Shinar is mentioned Gen. xiv. 1;
while in the Karnak Tablet, references are perpetually made to kings or
chiefs of Saenkara (Shinar), but the name of Babel does not occur. It
appears likely, then, that the Babel of Genesis was either destroyed or
left unfinished soon after the dispersion, and that the plains of
Sinjar and of Nineveh, with perhaps all the northern parts of
Mesopotamia, were included in the kingdom of Shinar, which formed the
germ of the Assyrian empire. It is probable that Nimrod succeeded
Asshur in the government of this kingdom, and greatly extended its
boundaries. He may be considered as the founder of the first dynasty of
the Assyrian kings, and was probably afterwards deified under the title
of Nisroch, which signifies not only an eagle, but a hawk, a bird
which, being used in the chase, typified the ruling passion of the
"mighty hunter."

An interval of 1095 years seems to have intervened
between the
foundation of Nineveh and the first rise of the Assyrian empire to the
dominion of Upper Asia, which is mentioned by Herodotus.68 According to the
common
chronology, the building of Nineveh is placed in B. C. 2304. The period
during which the Assyrian empire exercised a supreme influence over
Asia, embraced, according to Herodotus, five hundred and twenty years,
while the duration of the Median rule, commencing at the destruction of
Nineveh, and enduring till the time of Cyrus, is reckoned by the same
authority at one hundred and fifty years.69
The first year of Cyrus is computed to be B. C. 536, to which we must
add the united periods of the Assyrian and Median sway. These amount to
six hundred and seventy years, which, if added to the era of Cyrus,
bring the first rise of the Assyrian power to B. C. 1206, a period
which synchronizes as nearly as, possible with the statement of Major
Rawlinson, which places the sudden aggrandizement of the Assyrian
empire in the twelfth or thirteenth century before the Christian era.

The Assyrian kings mentioned in Scripture are five
in number, and
they all flourished at the close of the period mentioned by Herodotus.
Their names and the dates when they began to reign are as follows:

Pul, B. C. 771.

Tiglath Pileser, B. C. 747.

Shalmaneser, B. C. 728.

Sennacherib, B. C. 714.

Esarhaddon, B. C. 710.

Of these monarchs, it is probable that the former,
Pul, was the same
as the Asser adanpul, or Sardanapalus the First, mentioned by Major
Rawlinson as distinguished from Sardanapalus the Second, or Esarhaddon,
the last king of Nineveh mentioned in Scripture. Asser Adan Pul is
described in the inscriptions as the builder of the N. W. palace at
Nimroud, and the ruler over many districts in Syria, Asia Minor,
Mesopotamia, Armenia, the country between the two Zabs, and the lower
regions near the Persian Gulf. The gods whom he worshiped, Assarac,
Beltis, Ani, and Dagon, are then alluded to, and Major Rawlinson seems
disposed to identify Assarac with the Nisroch of Scripture. We find
from the inscriptions on some votive bulls and lions, that Sardanapalus
soon after passed the great desert into Syria, and received the tribute
of 'Pyre and Sidon, of Akarra (Acre), of Gubul, and of Arvad. All this
corresponds remarkably with the acts of Pul, as recorded in 2 Kings. He
is the first Assyrian king mentioned in Scripture, and he seems to have
invaded Syria and Phoenicia, and to have subdued the northern parts of
Palestine: Menahem, King of Israel, paid him tribute, after which he
returned to his own dominions.

This Pul, Pal, or Sardanapalus the First, seems to
have been the Bel
or Belus of the Babylonians; the letters P. and B. being frequently
interchanged in Semitic languages. To this Belus many persons in the
time of Quintus Curtius ascribed the building of Babylon.70 His name is thus
brought in
contact with that of Semiramis, who is mentioned by other writers as
the foundress of that city. It seems likely that Pul was the Ninus of
the Greeks, the more especially as Herodotus, the only trustworthy
historian of these matters, places but five generations between
Nitocris, the queen of Nebuchadnezzar, and Semiramis. But
Nebuchadnezzar was the son of Baladan, the first king of Babylon, who
attained that dignity by conspiring with Arbaces they Mede against
Asser adanpal, Sardanapalus II., or Esarhaddon, as he is termed in
Scripture.71
From
Nebuchadnezzar, therefore, to the period of Pul, were exactly five
generations, namely, Baladan, Esarhaddon, Sennacherib, Shalmaneser, and
Tiglath Pileser. The assertions of Herodotus are peculiarly entitled to
respect, as he is supposed to have written a history of Assyria, and to
have derived his information exclusively from Chaldean sources. The
simplicity of that venerable and veracious historian placed him far
above the conceited ignorance of many of his countrymen, who affected
to despise the records of barbarians, even when they were writing their
history. As for Ctesias, his propensity for fiction was so well known
that not even his cotemporaries could trust him.

It seems likely that Pul commenced the erection of a
city in the
province of Babylonia, of which he left the completion to his wife
Semiramis. After his death he was worshiped under the name of Bel, a
very different divinity from the Baal of the Ammonites and Western
Syria, and with whom the chief of the Babylonian Pantheon must not be
confounded.

The new city was peopled by the Chasdim, or
Chaldeans, wandering
tribes who had hitherto inhabited the northern parts of Arabia, and
the. plains of Mesopotamia. They seem to have possessed, however,
several cities in the land of Nabaraim, as Ur is named after them in
Genesis, and probably Haran was inhabited by a people of the same race.
Yet there appears strong reason to believe that the majority of the
Chasdim retained the nomadic habits of their forefathers, until the
building of Babylon.

Major Rawlinson alludes also to Temen-bar the
Second, who appears to
have reigned after Sardanapalus the First. The annals of this monarch's
reign are engraved on the black obelisk now in the British Museum, upon
the two large bulls in the centre palace of Nimroud, and on the sitting
figure discovered at Kalah Shergat.

After the mention of the Assyrian gods, Assarac,
Ani, Nit, Artank,
Beltis, Shemir, and Bar, the monarch proceeds to describe his
conquests. He crossed the Euphrates, and subdued great portions of
Syria proper and Asia Minor. In the ninth year of his reign, he leads
an expedition southward to Babylonia, his design being probably to
carry on the building of Babylon, which was certainly not finished till
the reign of Nebuchadnezzar. He marches also to the eastward against
the Arii, the Persians, and the Medes; and, on two other occasions,
sends his general, Tetarasser, to wage war on the same nations.
Herodotus informs us that the Medes were called anciently Arii, and
that they derived their other appellation from Medea, the celebrated
Princess of Colchis.72

From the terms in which he describes their contests
with the
Assyrians, it would seem that they revolted from the latter towards the
close of their Asiatic supremacy; after which, other nations following
their example, the Assyrian empire was weakened and finally destroyed.
There seems, therefore, no improbability in ascribing to Tiglath
Pileser the Median conquests of Temen-bar. The name of the general,
Tetarasser, may be the same as that of Tartan, alluded to in Isaiah xx.
1, as an officer of Sargon, King of Assyria. Sargon is mentioned by
Major Rawlinson as the appellation of the monarch who built Khoorsabad.
If the latter is identical with the Sargon of Isaiah, be is probably
the same as Sennacherib.

Upon the whole, I see little reason for supposing
that any of the
sculptures or inscriptions lately discovered, are more than a century
older than the reign of Pul or Sardanapalus the First. Nor am I
disposed to agree with Major Rawlinson that these memorials are wholly
unconnected with the later Assyrian sovereigns mentioned in Scripture.
I have read carefully the report of his paper in the "Athenaeum," but I
have not been able to discover any single argument to prove that any
one of the inscriptions or sculptures are older than the period alluded
to. If they are, we must be driven to the alternative of supposing that
the Assyrian monarchs invaded Syria and the Holy Land before the time
of Pul, a fact which is utterly irreconcilable with Scripture history.

The last of the Assyrian kings was Sardanapalus II,
the Esarhaddon
of the Bible. He seems to have been a prince of effeminate and vicious
habits, if we may trust the report of Ctesias. In the midst of his
concubines, the successor of Semiramis devoted himself to the study of
female arts and accomplishments. He excelled in spinning and the
mysteries of the toilet, and joined to his unmanly affectation of
female manners the grossest and most disgusting vices. An inscription,
composed by himself, and inscribed, it is said, on the gates of his
sepulchre, betrays the low sensuality of an ignoble mind.

On one occasion the Median satrap, Arbaces, was
admitted on
important business to the presence of his sovereign. He encountered a
being whose habits and demeanor appeared those of one who could
scarcely be called a man. With painted cheeks, and lisping accents, the
monarch treated the grave affairs of state as of less importance than
the proper management of a spindle, and the indignant satrap withdrew
in anger and contempt from the presence of one whom he felt himself
degraded in serving. He communicated his discontent and his hopes to
Baladan, who then ruled the province of the Chasdim and the rising city
of Babylon. The two satraps combined their forces and besieged Nineveh,
where Esarhaddon was indulging his passions and his vices in voluptuous
security. He found himself deserted by his allies, and, after some vain
attempts to repulse the rebels, be constructed a large and spacious
pile, on which, surrounded by his wives and concubines, the last King
of Assyria met his death amid the flames which his own hand had kindled.73

It does not seem, however, that the destruction of
Nineveh followed
the taking of the city by the Chaldeans and the Medes. The two satraps
shared the dominions of Esarhaddon between them; Arbaces taking the
northern provinces, while Baladan seized upon the southern territory of
the old Assyrian empire. Arbaces, himself a native of Media, seems to
have removed the seat of government to Ecbatana, leaving the city of
the Assyrian monarchs to fall into partial decay.

Arbaces, who may be considered the same as the
Deioces of Herodotus,
appears to have confined his conquests to the northern parts of Persia
and Mesopotamia. A war with the Cadusii, or Kurds, is mentioned by
Ctesias; and it is probable that some time after the death of
Sardanapalus the mountaineers allied themselves to the inhabitants of
Nineveh, and withdrew from the Median rule. Phraortes, the son of
Deioces, is said by Herodotus to have marched against Nineveh, during
the siege of which he perished. After his death, Cyaxares, his son and
successor, waged war against the Lydians, and subdued the whole of Asia
beyond the Halys. He also besieged Nineveh, being desirous of
destroying so powerful a city, and of avenging his father's death. He
was compelled, however, to raise the siege on account of the incursions
of the Scythians, who seem to have pursued him into Media.

After the Scythian war, it is probable that Cyaxares
again laid
siege to Nineveh, and utterly destroyed this once flourishing
metropolis of the Assyrian kings. The Median power continued to
increase till it was finally absorbed in that of Persia, the monarchs
of which latter country soon became paramount in Asia.

The decay of Nineveh must have been very rapid,
since, in the time
of the younger Cyrus, Xenophon seems to have passed close by its site,
yet not even the name of the once mighty city appears to have survived
its downfall. He only mentions a ruined town called Mespila, which
probably the Medes had erected in the neighborhood. Yet, according to
Tacitus, Ninus or Nineveh was a city worthy of being captured even in
the days of Claudius,

After the death of Alexander, and the division of
his Asiatic
dominions, Athoor, or the region of Nineveh, seems to have remained
under the dominion of the Seleucidee until the establishment of the
Parthian empire. The,, kings of Parthia, or, rather their lieutenants,
maintained their ground in Assyria, with varied success, till the
foundation of t4is kingdom of Adiabene, which dates its commencement
from the Mithrodatic wars. Plutarch, in his life of Lucullus, mentions
a king of Adiabene who allied himself with Tigtanes against the Romans.
His dominions seem to have comprised the whole of Assyria proper, which
was bounded on the, north by the Gordian or Kurdish mountains, on the
west by the Tigris, and on the east and south by the lower Zab.

One of the successors of this king, whose name
Monobazus, was the
father, of several sons by his wife Itelena, but he set his affections
chiefly on the youngest, Izates, a partiality which excited the
jealousy of the others. Fearing that their envy would work some evil to
his favorite, the king sent him, with many presents, to Abennerig, the
king or chief of Charax Spasini, who gladly received and protected him,
and finally gave him his daughter, Samacha, in marriage, A short time
before his death, the King of Adiabene sent for his son, and bestowed
1bpon him a. province called Caeron, or Carrae, where it is said the
remains of the ark were still at that time preserved. In this country,
Izates continued in peace till his father's death, when, by the
unanimous voice of the nobles of Adiabene, he was proclaimed king.

While Izates resided at the court of Abennerig he
was converted to
the Jewish religion, which soon after his mother, Helena, also
embraced, and became remarkable for her zeal and devotion. She had no
sooner seen her son quietly established in his kingdom than she
determined to make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and to take up her abode
there.

When she arrived at the Holy City, she found that a
great famine
prevailed in the country of Judea, which is, ia4eed, supposed to be the
scarcity predicted by Agabus in Acts xiä 28. The queen immediately
sent to Alexandria and, to Cyprus to purchase great quantities of
provisions, which, when they arrived at Jerusalem, she distributed
among all those who needed assistance. Izates also dispatched large
sums of money to the chief men among the Jews about the same time.

The sincerity of the king's religious views was
shown by one of his
first actions after his accession to the throne of Adiabene. At the
death of his father, Monobazus, the children of the deceased monarch
had been placed in confinement, according to the usual Parthian and
Persian custom. Izates not only released them, but expressed his deep
sorrow that they had been subjected to this treatment, for which he
endeavored to atone by the consideration with which he afterwards
behaved towards them.

During the early part of the reign of Izates,
Artabanus, King of
Parthia, finding that his nobles had conspired against him, left
Ctesiphon, and took refuge in the territory of Adiabene. This proud
monarch, who styled himself in all his epistles the King of Kings,
advanced to meet Izates with the air of a suppliant. Dismounting from
his horse, he made a low obeisance, and entreated in the humblest terms
protection and support as from a brother monarch. The generous
Adiabenian was no sooner aware of the quality and misfortunes of his
guest than he leaped from his horse, which he compelled the royal exile
to mount, while he himself escorted him on foot to his palace. During
his stay in Adiabene, Artabanus*was treated with all the
consideration which his rank demanded; the upper place at festivals was
conceded to him, and all the- sympathy which a generous mind
could exhibit to depressed and fallen royalty was freely bestowed.

Nor did Izates neglect to employ more active
measures in behalf of
his friend and ally. By his mediation the Parthians were induced again
to receive their sovereign, and the grateful Artabanus soon departed
for his own kingdom, having conferred on his host and benefactor the
most substantial tokens of his regard. The King of Adiabene received
the permission of the Parthian monarch to wear his tiara upright, and
to sleep on a golden bed, while the rich province of Nisibis was
bestowed upon him to furnish the means of supporting his new dignities.

After the death of Artabanus, the kingdom of the
Parthians became a
prey to intestine troubles. Gotarzes, the son of the late king, seized
upon the throne, but met with a warm opposition from his brother,
Bardanes, who at length succeeded in inducing him to give up his claims
to the crown and to retire into Hyrcania. He soon, however, repented of
his act, and raised forces, with which he marched against Bardanes, but
was defeated, and obliged to fly. Elated with his victory, Bardanes
behaved himself with such haughtiness and cruelty to his subjects that
they conspired against him, and he was assassinated during a hunting
expedition. He had previously denounced war against Izates, being
provoked that he would not join him in an intended expedition against
the Romans.

Gotarzes now mounted the Parthian throne, but he
becoming in, his
turn obnoxious to his subjects, some of them called in Meherdates, the
grandson of a former King Phraates, who had been dispatched as an
hostage to Rome., The Parthian ambassadors appeared before the Senate,
a4,d in a pathetic oration deplored the miseries of their country,
devastated by civil contests, and the extinction of the line of their
ancient kings.

The Senate was pleased to grant Meherdates to their
prayers, being
doubtless by no means unwilling to excite or continue dissensions which
prevented the Parthians from turning their arms against the Roman
dominions in the East. In a long oration, the Emperor Claudius
addressed the ambassadors and the Parthian prince, who was himself
present; in the august assembly, inculcating on the latter the
necessity of ruling his dominions with moderation and justice, while he
warned the former of the danger of frequent changes, and insinuated the
policy of sometimes complying with the humors of their kings. He
concluded by remarking that the Romans, satiated with military glory,
desired nothing more than to see universal peace pervading all foreign
nations. Caius Cassius, the Governor of Syria, was charged to escort
the young prince as far as the banks of the Euphrates, which office he
fulfilled satisfactorily, and dismissed him with just and reasonable
counsels, which, however, Meherdates did not afterwards follow.

This aspirant to the Parthian throne having wasted
both time and
opportunity by unseasonable delays, at length crossed the Tigris, and
marched through the territory of Adiabene. Izates had openly professed
himself in his favor, though he seems to have carried on, at the same
time, a secret correspondence with Gotarzes. It appears, however, that
the forces of Meherdates captured the city of Ninus, which still seems
to have been large enough to be occupied, as a military post.74

Izates and Akbar, King of the Arabians,75
soon deserted the cause of the Parthian pretender, who shortly after
was defeated in battle by Gotarzes, who spared his life, but commanded
that his-ears should be cut off.

The success which had attended the affairs of
Izates, and the
virtues, which distinguished him, produced a favorable effect on his
brother Monobazus, and his other kindred. Ascribing his good fortune to
the religion which he professed, they determined also to become
proselytes to the Jewish faith. But this intention of theirs having
greatly displeased the great men of the country, the latter formed a
league against them, and endeavored to enlist in their cause Abia, King
of the Arabians, who, for the sake of a large bribe that had been
promised him, marched against Izates.

The King of Adiabene prepared to repel the invaders,
but soon
discovered the domestic treason of some of his nobles, who had agreed
that during the conflict they would take to flight, and thus throw into
disorder the ranks of Izates. These traitors having met with the
punishment they deserved, their sovereign marched against the Arabians,
whom he defeated with great slaughter; after which Abia, fearing to
fall into the hands of the enemy, fell upon his own sword, and expired
in the fortress of Arsum, where he had taken refuge after the battle.

But the nobles of Adiabene still maintaining their
aversion to the
royal family, dispatched messengers to solicit the aid of the Parthian
king, Volagases, the grandson of Gotames. The ambassadors complained
that their sovereign had departed from the laws and customs of his
forefathers, and was endeavoring to introduce Jewish customs. It is not
improbable that Izates had become a Christian, as about this time the
Gospel was promulgated with great success in Mesopotamia, by St.
Thomas, St. Bartholomew, and Adaus. The Jewish religion was not a creed
that sought to obtain converts among the heathen, nor, indeed, did it
provoke that hostility which we find was always excited by the
preaching of Christianity. On the other hand, the first teachers of the
Gospel used every effort to extend the empire of the Church, nor is it
unlikely that their active zeal would produce feelings of the most
bitter hostility among people who adhered with superstitious firmness
to the tenets of their fathers.

The King of Parthia lent a favorable ear to the
complaints of the
malcontents of Adiabene, and after sending an embassage to Izates to
demand back those privileges which Artabanus had bestowed, he
determined, in the event of a refusal, to make it the pretext for war.
The King of Adiabene, who had penetrated the designs of the Parthian,
not only refused to accede to his demand, but prepared immediately for
an invasion. He placed his family in a strong fortress, and having well
garrisoned the citadels of his dominions, he awaited the advance of the
Parthians.

Volagases, in the mean time, had pitched his tents
on the banks of a
river which separated Adiabene from Media. He dispatched an ambassador
to Izates, who was charged with a message that breathed all the lofty
arrogance of the Parthian kings. The envoy dwelt upon the greatness of
his master, and the magnitude of his dominions, which extended from the
river Euphrates, even to Bactria, while with an impious boldness he
insulted the religion professed by Izates, and declared almost in the
language of Rab Shakeh, the inability of the God of Israel to oppose
the power of the great king.

The reply of Izates to these menaces was calm and
dignified. While
he acknowledged the extent of territory which was subject to the
Parthian monarch, the valor of his nation and the multitude of his
troops, he reminded the messenger that the power of God was greater
than that of man, and professed his determination to await with hope
and confidence the decision of Heaven.

The envoy of Volagases took his departure, and
Izates, clothed in
sackcloth, devoted himself, with his family, to fasting and
supplication. The night after, Volagases having received intelligence
that the Dabae and Sacae bad made an inroad into Parthia during his
absence, retired back to his own dominions.

After a reign of twenty-four years, the wise and
virtuous Izates was
buried in the sepulchre of his fathers, and was succeeded by his elder
brother Monobazus, who had distinguished himself by his affectionate
loyalty to the late sovereign. The mournful news reached the aged
Helena, in her pious retreat at Jerusalem, from which she hastened with
many lamentations to Adiabene, where she soon afterwards expired.
Monobazus caused her bones, and those of his deceased brother, to be
transported to Jerusalem, and buried in the pyramids which his mother
had erected during her residence at the Holy City.

From the death of Izates, we find no mention of the
kingdom of
Adiabene until the time of Trajan, when the Adiabenians, with their
King Mebarsapes, joined Chosroes, King of Persia, against the Romans.76 Mebarsapes was,
however,
driven from his dominions, and obliged to take refuge in Arabia, but
soon after succeeded in effecting a peace, and seems to have returned
to his kingdom. Another -long interval of silence occurs respecting the
affairs of this country, and we bear nothing of Adiabene till the reign
of Sapor I, King of Persia, who was cotemporary with the Emperors
Constans, Julian, and Jovian, and persecuted the Christians of Persia
with great severity. Most of the inhabitants of Adiabene had by this
time embraced the doctrines of the Gospel, and Arbela was the seat of a
Christian bishop. The Adiabenians are mentioned, in ecclesiastical
history, as having withstood, with noble constancy, the efforts of
their persecutors, and several bishops and priests watered with their
blood the plains of ancient Assyria.77

The kingdom of Adiabene had now become a province of
the Persian
empire, and the very name of Nineveh was for a long period buried in
obscurity. The caliphs, having subdued Persia, seem to have added Mosul
and the vicinity to their dominions, among which it remained until the
fall of Baghdad and the rise of the Ottoman power.

I have thus endeavored, briefly, to trace the
history of Nineveh
from the earliest records of its existence to the present time. Perhaps
few places that have exercised great influence over the destinies of
mankind have left so little to supply materials for the historian. Yet
we may reasonably hope that the labors of Major Rawlinson and others
will be attended with success, and that a vast fund of information;
derived from the cuneiform inscriptions, may soon be added to the few
and scanty pages which, up to a recent period, have comprised what has
been called the history of Assyria.

CHAPTER XXIII

Remarks on the Ecclesiastical History of
the Chaldeans.

AT the period of the birth of Christ, the various
religions
professed by the inhabitants of Mesopotamia, Assyria, and Chaldea, were
as numerous as the nations or races which composed the mixed population
of those countries. The professors of the ancient system of idolatry
which had prevailed before the Persian conquest were mingled with the
followers of the Magi. The sacred groves that concealed from public
view the mysteries of the Assyrian Venus were planted at the foot of
the, mountain, on whose lofty summit arose the fire temple of the
image-hating Persians, while the simple synagogue of the Jew confronted
the Grecian temple, adorned by the taste of the descendants of the
Macedonian conquerors. The worship of the sun, and of the heavenly
bodies, seems to have been the most prevalent form of idolatary in the
Mesopotamian plains, while the opinions of the Magians respecting the -evil
nature of matter, the necessity of bodily mortification, and the
continual conflict between the principles of good and evil, were
certainly received by numerous votaries, and formed the germ of that
heresy which, under the name of Gnosticism, impeded the progress of the
early Christian church.

Nor was the Hebrew system without numerous
representatives among the
dwellers in Mesopotamia and Assyria. The Jews had met with signal favor
and encouragement from the monarchs of Persia, and large numbers of
them had preferred remaining at Babylon and Susa, to returning with
Zorobabel to the land of their fathers. There seems strong reason for
supposing that many accompanied the Macedonian conqueror in his Eastern
expedition, and were allotted equal privileges with his Grecian
followers. At a later period we find Izates, a powerful prince, making
an open profession of Judaism, and inducing a large number of the chief
men of Adiabene to imitate his example. At the day of Pentecost, we
read of strangers from Parthia, Media, Persia, and Mesopotamia,
assembled to celebrate the festival of the Passover at Jerusalem, and
numbered afterwards among the hearers of the apostles. Some of these
doubtless became converts to the new faith, and diffused among their
countrymen, after their return, the knowledge of the principles which
they had imbibed.

The three Magi who had been miraculously guided to
the humble stable
of Bethlehem, where they saw and adored the infant Saviour, are
reckoned by the Chaldeans among their earliest missionaries; nor floes
this tradition seem, entirely void of probability. Other Oriental
writers record that St. Peter, St. Thomas, St. Bartholomew, and St.
Matthew propagated among the Chaldeans the tenets of the Divine Saviour.78

But the first town of any note on the eastern bank
of the Euphrates
which received the teaching of the apostles, appears to have been the
city of Edessa, the ancient Ur, and the modern Urfa. During the
lifetime of the Saviour, a chieftain of the name of Agbarus or Akbar
occupied this city. and its adjoining territory. Moved by the reports
which he had received of the miracles of a great Jewish teacher, he is
said to have dispatched an epistle to our Lord, offering to afford him
a safe asylum from the malice of the Jews. Writers of no small note
have affirmed that the Saviour returned him a gracious answer,
accompanied by his picture, and the intimation that an apostle should
be sent to him after the resurrection to instruct him more fully in the
way of truth.

I shall not enter upon the frequently discussed
question as to
whether such an event did really take place; yet it must be remembered
that Eusebius, who relates it, professes to have derived his
information from documents preserved in the public archives of the city.79 At the present
day, a spring
is pointed out in the neighborhood of Urfah, into which, it is said,
the picture was thrown at the time of the Mohammedan conquest; and even
at Aleppo I found bottles of water which had been brought thence as a
remedy against sickness.

It is certain that, a short time after the day of
Pentecost, St.
Thaddeus, one of the Seventy, preached the Gospel at Edessa,
accompanied by his disciples Aghaeus or Adaeus, and Mares.80 Their mission
met with great
success, the King Akbar and his court embraced Christianity, and Edessa
became the chief school or university of the Christian teachers in the
East.

From Edessa, the missionaries extended their
spiritual conquests to
Assyria and Chaldea. Nisibis, and the regions beyond the Tigris, were
visited by them; and Mares, one of the disciples of Thaddeus, received
from the hands of St. Thomas the episcopal office, and the charge of
the See of Seleucia, a city which derived its being and its name from
the Macedonian Seleucidee.

The accounts of the apostolical labors of Thomas,
Nathaniel, and
Bartholomew, are varied and frequently confused; yet it seems certain
that, before the close of the first century a large and increasing
number of Christians occupied the plains of Mesopotamia, and the great
cities of Amida, Nisibis, Arbela, and Seleucia. The faith had also made
great progress in Persia, as the Parthian monarchs who governed it at
that period seem to have been by no means intolerant, most probably
because they were not professors of the dominant Magian creed.

At the commencement of the second century, Abraham,
the second in -succession
from Mares, presided over the church at Seleucia. During his time, a
violent persecution was excited against the Christians of Persia by the
arts of the Magi, who dreaded the encroachments of the new faith; Many
martyrs perished on this occasion, but it was suspended at the
intercession of Abraham, who had been recently consecrated, at Antioch,
Metropolitan of Seleucia. His prayers had been sought for on behalf of
the king's son, who labored under a painful and dangerous disease; but
when Abraham. appeared before the monarch in obedience to
the royal summons, his countenance was sad and dejected. The king,
whose name is said to have been Chosroes, inquired the cause of his
sorrow, whereupon the bishop complained of the misfortune under which
his people suffered, and exposed the injustice of their persecutors.
Moved by his appeal, the monarch made a solemn promise that, if his
prayers proved successful, the course of the persecution should be
arrested. The intercession of Abraham is said to have procured health-for
the sufferer, and the grateful parent used his influence and authority
to protect his Christian subjects.81

Shortly after this event, the expedition of Trajan
took place, and
this prince, whose hands had already been imbrued in' the blood of
Ignatius of Smyrna, treated the Christians of Edessa with great
severity. His forces overran Adiabene, Mesopotamia, and Chaldea, where
he seems to have, afflicted the rising churches with equal cruelty. The
fact that the Eastern Christians were generally subjects of the
monarchs of Persia and Parthia, rendered them objects of suspicion to
the Roman government. When Achadbues, a priest of Seleucia, repaired in
company with one Jabjesu to Antioch, that he might receive consecration
to the episcopal office, the fellow-travelers were arrested by the
Roman magistrate as Persian spies, and Achadbues escaped, by flight
only, a cruel and lingering death. The unfortunate Jabjesu, with his
host, were dragged before the praetor and crucified, notwithstanding
they loudly protested their innocence of any evil or treasonable
intention. Achadbues succeeded in reaching Jerusalem, where he obtained
consecration as bishop, and returned soon after to Seleucia.

After the decease of Achadbues, his successor
Sciachlupha was
prevented from repairing to Antioch by the war which was then raging
between the Parthians and the Romans He was therefore consecrated by
the neighboring bishops, who had lately increased greatly in numbers;
and this seems to have been the first step towards the separation of
the church of the extreme East from the patriarchate of Antioch. The
latter see, in early times, possessed the chief jurisdiction over the
Christians of Mesopotamia and Persia. Antioch was not only the
metropolitan city of the Roman dominions in the East, but it was the
place where the disciples of Jesus had first received the cherished
title of Christians. From Antioch the zealous missionaries of the
Gospel had gone forth to the remote regions beyond the Euphrates. To
her the Orientals owed their rites and their doctrines, and by her
judgment they regulated their decisions in quest ~ns of faith. It was
natural; therefore, that, during the first and second centuries, the
Metropolitans of Seleucia and, should testify their allegiance to the
patriarch of the Syrian city, by receiving at his hands those
privileges and powers which were necessary for the due discharge of
their sacred and important duties. But as time rolled on, and
Christianity extended itself in Persia, and on the banks of the Tigris,
it seemed incongruous that the chief bishop of a tract of country
almost extra-patriarchal in extent, should continue subject to the
spiritual ruler of a district far removed from the place-of his
residence, and with whom he had few opportunities of taking counsel, or
of holding official intercourse. Nor were these difficulties diminished
by the political arrangements which then prevailed. With the exception
of the Christians of Nisibis and Amida, the whole of those to whom, for
the sake of distinction, I shall affix the title of Chaldeans, were
subject to the authority of the Persian or Parthian kings. The former
always looked suspiciously on the Christianity of their Chaldean
subjects, as they considered it a tie of union which bound them to
their Roman foes. It must also be remembered that the journey to
Antioch from Seleucia was hot always a safe one in times of peace, as
the intervening country was frequently the seat of warfare, which of
course entirely intercepted all communication. It soon became evident,
therefore, that the Chaldeans of the East must sooner or later withdraw
themselves from a jurisdiction which afforded them much inconvenience
and little benefit. Their distant position had also a tendency to
prevent their feeling much sympathy with the movements or theological
investigations of the Eastern Syrian Church. In their remote regions,
the echo of the logical disputes of Antioch and Edessa never reached
them, or, if it did, was entirely lost upon a people who lacked the
subtle, curious spirit of the Asiatic Greeks. It is not improbable,
therefore, that their notions were often illogical and ill-digested, or
that they adhered with blind fondness to antiquated forms of expression
which the perversion of Western heresy had rendered it ambiguous and
dangerous to use.82

About the middle of the third century, Sapor or
Shapoor I. succeeded
Ardsheer or Artaxares, who was the first monarch of the Sassanides. The
Persian race had now recovered the ascendency over their Parthian
rulers, and the new. sovereigns felt or feigned a zeal for the ancient
institutions of their country, which led them to tolerate, and perhaps
encourage, the persecution of their Christian subjects.

Sapor had no sooner ascended the throne than a
sanguinary war broke
out between Persia and Rome. The Persian king, at the head of a large
army, ravaged the Mesopotamian provinces, with, fire and sword, and
even captured Antioch itself. He was, however, compelled speedily to
retreat. The Emperor Gordian retook in the course of one campaign all
that had been wrested from the Romans, and was even about to lay siege
to Ctesiphon, when he was assassinated by Philip, the Arabian; who,
anxious to reap the fruits of his perfidy, concluded a hasty peace with
the Persians, and returned to Antioch.

In the year 250, the persecution which Decius had
commenced against
the Christians at Rome penetrated to the remote region of Mesopotamia.
Several Persians received the crown of martyrdom during its
continuance; while, to add to the calamities of the Chaldean Christians
the armies of Sapor invaded the Roman territories after the death of
Decius and the proud monarch of the East had the gratification of
beholding the Emperor Valerian a captive in Persia. The valor of
Odenatus of Palmyra alone maintained the honor of Rome, and the
imperial city of the Caesars was indebted to a Syrian for the safety of
her Eastern provinces83
Sapor founded, to commemorate his victories, a city entitled
Gandisapor, which is chiefly noted as having attracted thither several
Greek physicians, who translated into the Oriental languages the
medical works of Hippocrates.

The third century produced two heresiarchs, whose
opinions made some
progress in the East. The first of these was Paul of Samosata, who had
been raised by the influence of Zenobia to the Bishopric of Antioch. He
was vain, presumptuous, and self-conceited, nor did the excellence of
his moral character compensate for the defects of his understanding.
The hatred and disgust of his opponents may have exaggerated the
charges brought against him, yet his conduct even an impartial judge
must pronounce in every respect unworthy of a Christian bishop. The
heresy which he held and taught, seems to have been "That Christ and
the Holy Ghost were not distinct persons in the Godhead, but merely the
representatives of certain divine attributes, which it pleased God to
manifest under their names, and that Jesus Christ was a mere man, upon
whom the wisdom or reason of the Father descended, in order to work out
certain ends." The immediate followers of Paul were not numerous, but
his system lingered in the Eastern schools, and perhaps produced in
many minds a scarcely perceptible bias towards the opinions which were
afterwards advocated and defended by Nestorius.84

The second heresiarch alluded to was Manes, or
Manichaeus, a Persian
by birth, who endeavored to combine the doctrines of the Gospel with
the Magian philosophy. The opinions of this person, having already been
noticed at some length in the course of this work, I shall not
recapitulate his tenets, which, however, at- first excited some
attention in Persia, where the doctrine was perhaps secretly favored by
many of the Magi. The success of his system in his native land induced
the heresiarch to attempt the propagation of his errors in Mesopotamia
and the parts adjacent. Some writers affirm, however, that he was
obliged to leave Persia to avoid the anger of the king, whose son he
had failed in curing, after he had undertaken to restore him to health
by a miracle. While in Mesopotamia he challenged Archelaus, Bishop of
Cascara, to a public disputation, in which he was manifestly defeated,
and returned foiled and disappointed to his native country, where the
officers of the king seized and conveyed him to a royal fortress, where
he was flayed alive and perished miserably.85

At the commencement of the fourth century, the
course of the
Manichaean heresy had been to a certain extent arrested by the zealous
endeavors of Archelaus and others, but it still continued for many
centuries to retain many secret and avowed supporters in the regions of
the East. The Christians of Persia enjoyed for a short time the
blessings of tranquillity and peace, while their brethren in the Roman
territories were suffering severely from the persecution which had
lately been commenced by the Emperors Carus and Numerian. But they were
soon destined to experience the same misfortunes; for the Romans,
having broken the peace which Probus had made with the Persians,
invaded Mesopotamia, and captured Seleucia, Ctesiphon, and Coche,
inflicting great cruelties on the Christian inhabitants of those
places.

From the nature of its position, Edessa was the
first to experience
the severity of the emperor. Since the days of Agbarus, its schools had
been the receptacles and the dispensers of Christian learning. Macarius
gave lectures in Syriac, upon the text of Scripture, and instructed in
Biblical criticism the future priests and bishops of the Syro-Chaldean
Church.

After the death of Carus, the Persians recovered,
for a short time,
the regions of Mesopotamia, but they suffered great loss towards the
termination of the reign of Diocletian. Galerius concluded a peace with
them, or rather a truce of forty years, by the terms of which the
general Roman boundary was terminated by the Tigris, and the five
provinces of Azanene, Sophene, Intilene, Zabdicene, and Corduene,
situated on the eastern side of that river, were ceded to Rome.86

About this time, monachism was first introduced into
Mesopotamia
from Egypt by Aones, who seems to have been the disciple of the Syrian
Hilarion. The climate of Mesopotamia and the character of its
inhabitants were favorable to the progress of the new system. The dry,
arid nature of the former presented few incentives to the appetite, and
rendered rigid fasting less difficult than it would have been found in
colder regions, while the sober, meditative, and grave character of the
Oriental inclined him to view favorably a life of contemplation. Aones
soon numbered some of the most ardent, learned, and zealous of the
Eastern priesthood among his followers, at the head of whom stands the
celebrated James of Nisibis, whose name and actions I have alluded to
in another place.87

Yet the monks of the East must not be confounded
with those idle and
luxurious drones who have so often excited the ridicule and contempt of
Western Europe. Aones, who is also called Eugenius, employed his
disciples in works of practical utility. Freed from all restraint and
impediment, which the ties of matrimony or the quiet seductions of a
comfortable home might have cast in their path, they went boldly forth
to instruct the population of the most miserable villages, and the
inhabitants of the steepest and most rugged mountains. Fearless of
danger, they scaled the precipices of Kurdistan, and poured into the
ear of the dying Carducbian the consolations of a faith which had
induced them to brave all perils for the love of God and of man. With a
wallet on his shoulders, and a traveling staff in his hand, the
Chaldean monk, transformed at a moment's notice into a zealous and
active' missionary, crossed the widest rivers, and traversed the most
inhospitable plains. His home was the first cottage that afforded the
shelter of its mud walls to the wandering stranger, his food the fare
of the humblest peasant, his companions the rude and ignorant tillers
of the earth, whose tails be lightened, and whose troubles he consoled
by the bright and glorious tidings on which, with rude but touching
eloquence, he loved to dilate. Such were the men who in the fourth
century of the Christian era evangelized the numerous inhabitants of
Mesopotamia and Assyria, such were also their successors, who in after
ages spread the triumphs of Christianity over the distant regions of
Tartary, India, and China.

Shortly after the introduction of monachism into the
Eastern church,
a schism took place which was provoked by the pride and intolerable
arrogance of Papas, the son of Aghaeus, Archbishop of Ctesiphon and
Seleucia. This unworthy successor of St. Thaddeus treated the priests
and deacons of his church with indignity and contempt, while he proudly
rejected the authority of the Synod which had assembled to take
cognizance of his unjust and unchristian proceedings.

Milles, Bishop of Susa, had long been noted among
the Chaldeans for
the purity of his doctrine and the innocence of his life. He accosted
Papas in a public assembly with all the fervor of a zealous and earnest
mind-', Dost thou think," he indignantly exclaimed, "that
the faults of thy brethren give thee a just right to treat them with
pride and scorn? Can it be that thou deemest the words of God a fable,
which teach that he who would be chief among Christians should be the
servant of all?"

Papas answered the remonstrance of the venerable
bishop with
derisive contempt, upon which Milles, taking from his bag the
manuscript of the Gospel, placed it respectfully on a desk in the
midst.

"If thou wilt not hear these words," he said, with
calm dignity,
"from me who am but a mortal like thyself, consult the decisions of the
Evangelists, which now lay open before the eyes of thy body, though I
fear they are hidden from the view of thy mind."

Almost beside himself with rage, Papas insolently
advanced in the
midst,. and striking the holy volume with his clenched hand, he cried,
in a sneering tone, "Speak, O Gospel! speak if thou canst, since verily
my speech faileth me."

Penetrated with grief, the aged Milles rushed
forward, overcome by
emotions of horror and regret. With both hands he seized the sacred
tome, covered it with kisses, and pressed it respectfully to his
forehead. Then turning to Papas, he said, with deep solemnity, "Because
thou hast thus shamefully treated the word of the living God, behold
his angel standeth beside thee, and shall cause thy hand to wither,
which has offered such insult to him."

The historian adds that the right side of Papas was
suddenly smitten
with paralysis, and that he continued until the day of his death an
object of astonishment and terror to many.88

Simeon succeeded the unworthy Papas in the see of
Seleucia, and was
present 'at the council of Nice, where the heresy of Arius was
condemned. The creed drawn up by the bishops there assembled was
generally received by the Chaldean church, and is held by their
descendants even at the present day. I shall transcribe it as it is now
recited in their churches. It is entitled " The creed that was composed
by, three hundred and eighteen Holy Fathers, who were assembled at
Nice, a city of Bithynia, in the time of King Constantine the Pious, on
account of Arius the accursed infidel.

"We believe in one God, the Father Almighty, maker
of all things,
both visible and invisible, and in our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of
God, the only begotten of His Father before all worlds, who was not
created, True God of True God, of the same substance with His Father;
by whose hands the worlds were made, and all things created, who for us
men, and for our salvation, descended from Heaven and was incarnate by
the Holy Ghost and became man, and was conceived and born of the
Virgin, and suffered and was crucified in the days of Pontius Pilate,
and died and was buried, and rose on the third day according to the
Scripture's, and ascended into Heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of
His Father, and is again to come and judge the living and the dead.

"And we believe one Holy Spirit, the Spirit of
Truth, who proceedeth
from the Father, the Spirit that giveth life.

"And in one Holy and Catholic Church.

"We acknowledge one Baptism for the remission of
sins, and the
resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting."

Eight years before the council sat, a violent
persecution was
directed by Sapor II. against those Christians who inhabited the
Persian dominions. The cause of this is assigned to the malice of the
Jews and Magians, who succeeded in stirring up the king against the
followers of the Gospel. It is likely, however, that motives of secular
policy had some weight in the councils of Sapor. He viewed with
suspicion and aversion those who held the same faith with the most
deadly enemies of the Persian name; and he might, not perhaps
unreasonably, consider that their journeys into the Roman dominions,
though ostensibly for religious purposes, had some ulterior end in
view. His patriotism impelled him to support that creed under whose
auspices Persia had risen in early times to influence and dominion,
while a mind thus prone to take an unfavorable view of the Gospel was
still " more incensed by the complaints of the Magi and the
encroachments of the new faith.

This persecution, which lasted for nearly forty
years, was one of
the most grievous that had hitherto befallen the Chaldean Church.
Simeon, the aged metropolitan of Seleucia, with many other bishops, and
a vast number of priests and deacons, yielded up their lives amid
torments of the most excruciating character. The region of Adiabene was
among those places which felt most severely the effects of the
monarch's rage. It was governed by a Satrap, whose name, Sennacherib,
recalls the old days of the Assyrian monarchy. He equaled in cruelty,
if not in greatness, the renowned monarch whose name he bore. An aged
abbot, named Matthew, had erected a monastery on the brow of a
mountain, fifteen miles from Mosul, which still bears his name. In the
same province Behnam, whose history has been already referred to, was
distinguishing himself together with his sister by the ardent zeal with
which they propagated the doctrine of Christ. Forty associates and
fellow-laborers made their appearance with the three above mentioned
before the Persian Satrap. But the persecutors cared neither for age
nor sex, and the whole body were at once dragged off to die. They
suffered with patient constancy, but their blood did not quench the
flame of persecution. A vast multitude of both sexes were seized, and
doomed to cruel and lingering deaths.89

The expedition under Julian terminated fatally for
the Romans, and
by an ignominious treaty, the city of Nisibis was surrendered to the
Persian monarch, An innumerable crowd of citizens, among which the
majority were Christians, followed the retreat of Jovian, forsaking for
ever the homes where they had so long dwelt in happiness and
tranquillity. One voice was raised with honest courage to rebuke the
pusillanimity of the emperor in the accents of sarcastic reproach; and
the vain and arrogant Jovian was but too glad to conceal himself from
the murmurs of those whom his want of courage and conduct had driven
forth as wanderers and fugitives.90

In the year 419 of the Christian era, and the
twentieth of the reign
of Yezdegerd, the rash zeal of Abdas, Bishop of Susa, provoked a
renewal of the persecution. The prelate had destroyed a fire-temple
belonging to the Magi, and this imprudent and indefensible action so
excited the anger of the king that he put to death the bishop and some
of his presbyters, and ordered the Christian Church to be leveled with
the ground. The intercession of one of his Christian officers, however,
appeased his fury, but not before a small number of persons had
suffered martyrdom.

Soon after the persecution bad ceased, war broke out
between the
Romans and the Persians, on account of the protection and succor which
the former. had afforded to some Christian fugitives. During the
hostilities which ensued, the Romans laid waste the province of
Azanene, and carried with them to Amida a band of wretched captives,
whose naked and miserable condition exciting the commiseration of
Acacius, the bishop of that city, he sold the sacred utensils of the
church, and parted with all his own property to relieve their wants.
The unhappy Persians obtained by his means a release from their
bondage, and were clothed and furnished with all the necessaries that
they required by the aid of the charitable prelate, whose munificent
and truly Christian benevolence had the double effect of soothing the
miseries inflicted, by the horrors of war and of disposing the King of
Persia to regard with more good will the religion which produced such
excellent fruits.91

CHAPTER XXIV

Remarks on the ecclesiastical history of
the Chaldeans.

THE Chaldean or Assyrian Church maintained, during
the first four
centuries of the Christian era, a perfect and uninterrupted communion
with her sisters of Asia, Africa, and Europe; her prelates assisted in
their councils, and her martyrs were gratefully mentioned in their
martyrologie. But the time was now fast approaching when the bonds of
union were to be severed, and discord and division prevail among those
who had hitherto considered each other as brethren in the one faith.

The subject which provoked these fatal disputes was
one which the
wisdom and ingenuity of man can never fathom with entire satisfaction,
or express with perfect intelligibility. The Incarnation of our
Saviour, the process whereby a Divine Being united himself to our human
nature, had from the beginning of the promulgation of Christianity
excited the speculations of restless and inquisitive minds. The active
subtlety of the Greek intellect had led many into heresy on this
important matter, and the opinions of Apollinaris were, even at the
commencement of the fifth century, troubling the peace of the church.
The councils had hitherto contented themselves with determining that
Christ was very God and very man, but they had said nothing on the
manner in which the mysterious union was effected. Two opposite modes
of expression therefore prevailed among the Syrian and Egyptian
theologians. The former, in order to avoid the opinions of Apollinaris,
who maintained that the Godhead of Christ performed in His human body
the functions of a soul, were exceedingly precise in maintaining the
most marked distinction between the Godhead and the manhood of the
Saviour; while the latter, in their zeal against Gnosticism, seemed
almost to confuse both the human and divine natures, and to blend them
into one. Hitherto, however, both schools had remained at peace with
each other, and although they might differ in words and terms, their
differences had never been thought of sufficient importance to mar the
unity of the church.92

Matters were in this state when Nestorius, who had
been educated in
the schools of Antioch and Edessa, was raised to the patriarchate of
Constantinople. The learning of the new prelate was marred by the
vanity and self-conceit of his character, as well as by the bigoted
intolerance which he displayed against those who differed with him in
opinion. From the' pulpit of the cathedral of Constantinople, he
publicly called upon the emperor to crush all heretics with the secular
arm, promising him, at the same time, as an inducement, the aid of his
prayers against the Persians.

Among the chief favorites of Nestorius, was a
presbyter named
Anastasius, whose turgid and flowery discourses had procured for him
great popularity. He was, like his patron, a favorer of the Syrian
doctrine, and thought himself justified in attempting to attract a
crowd of auditors, by introducing in his sermons sentiments which had
the gloss of novelty to recommend them. The minds of the superficial
and the ignorant are easily captivated by startling assertions, and the
fertile brain of Anastasius seems at last to have hit upon an expedient
of satisfying at once the patriarch's vanity and his own.

The numerous auditors who crowded the principal
church of
Constantinople, and who not unfrequently expressed their approbation
and disapproval in a mode more suitable to the circus or the theatre,
were astonished beyond measure to hear from the lips of Anastasius that
the term Theotokos, which had been considered orthodox since the days
of St. Athanasius, was a heretical and Apollinarian expression. The
sermon of the presbyter excited some commotion, which was by no means
allayed by the appearance of the patriarch as the defender of his
friend.93

The word Theotokos, as applied to the Virgin Mary,
is scarcely
susceptible of direct translation, and although sometimes rendered
"Mother of God," it is better expressed by the paraphrase, "She who
bore Him that was God." Those who defended the use of the term argued
that Elizabeth had termed the Blessed Virgin "the Mother of my Lord,"
and that the latter word was equally significative of the divine nature
of the Saviour. They referred their opponents to the language used by
St. Paul, in which he speaks, without scruple, of the blood of God as
expressive of the close union which existed between the two natures,
authorizing the interchange of the terms proper to each. To this it was
answered that the word Christotokos, the bearer or mother of Christ,
was the fittest designation of the Holy Virgin, since she is called
constantly in the Gospel the mother of Christ, and the Deity cannot
properly be said either to be born or to die.

The works of Nestorius, in which he defended his
favorite opinions,
were widely disseminated and eagerly perused, while a large number of
the Egyptian monks declared themselves to be convinced by his
arguments, and abandoned the use of the term Theotokos. This proceeding
brought the matter under the notice of Cyril, Patriarch of Alexandria,
who censured the conduct of the monks, and commenced a written
controversy with Nestorius, which terminated little to the satisfaction
of either party. After much inflammatory discussion of the subject in
question, it was referred to the decision of a general council, which
met at Ephesus, A. D. 431.94

The bishops of Greece, Europe, and Africa, having
arrived at
Ephesus, they waited several days for the arrival of John, Patriarch of
Antioch, with the prelates of the East. But, as his coming was delayed
from day to day, it seemed advisable to commence proceedings in his
absence, the more particularly as the office of the different prelates
did not allow them to 'remain for any length of time at a distance from
their various spheres of duty. Cyril was chosen president of the
assembly, and opened the session by summoning Nestorius to appear
before them. The Patriarch of Constantinople declined to defend himself
in the presence of a partial and imperfect tribunal, and refused to
make his appearance. But as he had of late written several works on the
subject in debate, these were placed before the council, and the
following errors were laid to his charge.

First, that he had denied the term Theotokos to the
Blessed Virgin,
and, secondly, that be had asserted the existence of two separate and
distinct persons in the Son of God, The contest, however, hinged
principally on the latter assertion for, with regard to the former, the
use or non-use of the particular word Theotokos was only regarded as
important from its bearing on the true character of the Incarnation.
The point in question, therefore, was whether the expressions used by
Nestorius on the latter mystery were in accordance with the teaching of
Scripture and the primitive Fathers. He had asserted that the Godhead
dwelt in the Redeemer's human body, as in a shrine or temple, and he
declared that he would never concede the title of God to one who
increased daily in age by two months and three months. Other parts of
his works seem even to set forth that the divine nature did not descend
upon Christ till after His birth.

The evil consequences which might have resulted from
these opinions
being tolerated and encouraged in the church, were such, that the
council could scarcely do otherwise than condemn them. In an age when
theology was the one grand topic which interested men's minds, and when
the fertile imaginations of the Greek doctors were but too prone to
philosophize on the solemn doctrines of Christianity, it became doubly
necessary that all definitions should as far as possible be free from
exception. Nor did it require much foresight to perceive that the
expressions of Nestorius so divided the Son of God from the Son of Man,
that he impugned the divinity of Christ, and, therefore, struck at the
very root of the doctrine of the atonement. If the Godhead dwelt merely
in Christ as in a temple, He was but little exalted above those
prophets upon whom it is said, in the Old Testament, that the Spirit of
God rested, nor could the expressions of Nestorius be reconciled with
the direct teaching of the Gospel, that "the Word was made flesh."95

The majority of the council had decided against him,
when John of
Antioch arrived. The latter seems, at first, to have taken part with
the heresiarch, in which he was supported by the Eastern bishops, who
were naturally partial to their own countryman. But, after some serious
and animated discussions, the Patriarch of Antioch was led to concur in
the decision of the council, and peace and unanimity were once more
restored to the church.

The judgment put forth by the assembled bishops, and
which has since
been accepted by the generality of Christians, was this, " That in
Christ our Lord there are two natures most closely and intimately
united in one person without mixture or confusion." The almost
unanimous consent to the sentence of the Ephesine Synod, which has
since prevailed among all parties, is perhaps a conclusive argument in
favor of its soundness and intelligibility, nor could Nestorius
complain that upon the whole, he was treated with injustice or
partiality. Even if we admit that Cyril of Alexandria was moved by
personal enmity to oppose a hated rival, it cannot be supposed that the
whole of the bishops assembled, many of whom presided over dioceses in
the patriarchate of Nestorius himself, were animated by similar
feelings. Yet even supposing this insinuation correct, how shall we
account for the acquiescence of John of Antioch and the Eastern
bishops, who had already given the most unmistakable proofs of their
aversion to Cyril, and partiality to Nestorius.

The Nestorian controversy gave rise to another
error, into which a
strong desire to avoid the sentiments of Nestorius had propelled
Eutyches, an abbot of Constantinople. This man taught that the divine
and human natures of our Lord were so mingled as to form but one
compounded nature, and his doctrine, after its condemnation at the
Council of Chalcedon, in A. D. 451, was widely spread among the
Christians of the East, many of whom also had begun to embrace the
tenets of Nestorius.

The person to whom is chiefly attributable the
progress of the
Nestorian doctrine, was one Bar Sumas, a Persian by birth, who was
educated in the University of Edessa. One of the colleges there was
called, from the origin of the greater part of its scholars, the
Persian school: the members of which were much attached to the writings
of their former preceptors, Diodorus of Tarsus, and Theodore of
Mopsuesta, under the latter of whom Nestorius himself had imbibed the
principles of theology. These doctors of the Syrian Church held and
promulgated dogmas similar to those for which Nestorius was condemned,
and their influence over the Persian school predisposed the minds of
its members in favor of the tenets of the deposed patriarch. They were
confirmed in their attachment to these views by an event which took
place shortly after `the condemnation of Nestorius.

Rabulus, Bishop of Edessa, had been at first one of
the warmest
supporters of the latter during the debates at Ephesus. He had seconded
John of Antioch in his inimical proceedings against Cyril, but after
his return a marked change took place in his views. He began to regard
the Persian school with suspicious dislike, and at last broke it up
entirely, and required the masters to leave the city with their
disciples. Burning with resentment on account of the affront which they
had received, the expelled students returned to Persia, and became
noted for their zeal in propagating the opinions of Nestorius. The
names of the principal men of this party were Bar Sumas, Acacius, and
Manes, who obtained, in course of time, the sees of Nisibis, Seleucia,
and Persia.

The great majority of the Chaldean Christians would
doubtless have
maintained a neutral position, but for the restless activity and
intrigues of Bar Sumas, who seems to have obtained considerable
influence at the Persian court. Having gained access to Firouz, who
then occupied the throne of Persia, he represented to him the policy of
dividing the Oriental Christians from the Greeks. He urged that, as
long as both agreed in their doctrinal views, the affections of the
Chaldeans would always be in danger of alienation from `their lawful
monarchs, and, their allegiance might be tampered with by
the Greek emperors. He concluded by counseling the Persian monarch to
aid and protect him in extending those opinions which could not fail to
excite and maintain perpetual enmity between the two races.

The counsel of Bar Sumas was eagerly adopted by
Firouz; Babuzeus,
the Metropolitan of Seleucia, was put to death, and Acacius, one of the
expelled students of Edessa, appointed in his room. At the same time,
the Emperor Zeno, who favored the Monophysites, caused all Persian
students to leave Edessa-an act which inflamed still more the anger of
the Persian monarch, who commenced a furious persecution against all
Christians opposed to the doctrines of Nestorius. At the head of a
large band of soldiers, the infamous Bar Sumas marched over the
Assyrian plains, and massacred without pity about seven thousand
persons. The body of Bar Sebedes, Bishop of Nineveh, which was among
the slain was carried off and honorably interred by a Jew who had
lately embraced the Christian faith.

The process of Nestorianism was finally triumphant
in the churches
of Assyria under Babuaeus, who was raised to the See of Seleucia A. D.
496, and who first threw off the allegiance of Antioch, and assumed the
title of Patriarch East.

Among the bishops of Western Asia, a few supported
the cause, and
embraced the tenets of Nestorius; but in a century after the Council of
Ephesus, all external traces of the heresy had disappeared from the
Roman dominions in the East. This was mainly attributable to the
expulsion of the Persians from Edessa, and to the great prevalence of
the Monophysite doctrine in that celebrated university. Fostered by the
Emperor Zeno and Severus, Patriarch of Antioch, the disciples of
Eutyches had nearly succeeded in gaining for the dogma of the one
nature, a reception almost universal. The Monophysite Syrians became
the most violent opponents of Nestorianism, and obliged the opposers of
the Council of Ephesus to confine themselves exclusively to the Persian
dominions.96

The monarchs of Persia, on the other hand; when they
discovered that
their Chaldean subjects were violently averse to the rule and the
tenets of the Greek emperors, began to treat them with greater
toleration than before. The loss of the school at Edessa was
compensated by the foundation of Chaldean seminaries at Nisibis and
Arbela, where the doctors of the Nestorian sect propagated their
opinions with great success. They began to review and to refine the
terms of their creed, and to clothe its doctrines in less objectionable
language. They labored to prove that they had not followed the
sentiments of a private individual, but were maintaining, in all its
purity, the technical phraseology which had always been received in
their church from the days of the apostles. Their doctrine, after much
discussion and difference of opinion, assumed at length the following
form, which was solemnly set forth and defended by several councils
assembled at Seleucia :--

"In Christ there are two substances, two natures,
two persons,
namely, the Divine Person of the Word, and the human Person of Jesus.
But both these two natures and two persons are closely united by the
existence of one will, one operation, one power, one prosopon or
appearance, and one aspect. The Blessed Virgin is not to be termed,
therefore, the mother of God, but the mother of Christ."97

The meaning of these dogmas will be more clearly
illustrated,
perhaps, by the following extract from one of their most esteemed
authors, who composed an exposition of the Nicene Creed: "We say," he
writes, "that the Word was united with the [humanity] assumed by a
union of will, of adhesion,98
and of person.

"Wherefore Christ is one, even one son, since there
is a union of
will. As, in like manner, two or three men differing from each other in
essence and person may be united by the agreement of their several
wills, for the Scripture saith, 'To the believing there was one mind
and one will.' There is a union of adhesion, which resembles the union
of a man and his wife, who, according to the Gospel, become one flesh,
as it is said, 'Wherefore a man shall leave his father and his mother,
and shall cleave unto his wife.' The union of person is as the union of
a king and his friend, the latter of whom often holds the place of the
former, and exercises rule, authority, and power. In this manner, the
Eternal Son is united to the assumed human nature, and hence is made
one Christ, one son, one will, by means of the contiguity, of the
persons, but not naturally. Wherefore Christ is termed two natures, two
persons, beet one son, even as in the Scriptures David and Jonathan, a
man and his wife, a king and his friend, are sometimes called two
prosopa.99
Thus, the
Eternal Son and the man Jesus Christ are one. As David and Jonathan, a
man and his wife, a king and his friend, have but one will in all
things, so in the Eternal Word, and in the assumed humanity, there
exists also only one will."

By a careful perusal of the above, it will be seen
that the
Nestorians differed from other Christians in teaching that the union
between the manhood and the Godhead was figurative merely, and not real
or substantial. They held that the Deity dwelt in the human body of
Jesus as in a temple, and hence they denied the title of Theotokos to
the Virgin Mary. A careful distinction is always maintained, in their
controversial writings, between God and Christ, the union between them
being always described as one solely of will and affection, or
adhesion, as will be seen by the examples referred to above.

All communication having been broken off between the
Sees of Antioch
and Seleucia, the metropolitan of the latter was regarded by all the
Persian bishops as the head of their new community. The title of
Patriarch of the Chaldeans seems to have been assumed by the new
spiritual chief, though some of his successors termed themselves
Patriarchs of the East. At the commencement of the sixth century,
Cosmas Indicopleustes described their dominion as extending over
Persia, India, and Arabia Felix.

About the year 530 A. D., Patricius, Archbishop of
Persia, ordained
priests, deacons, and even bishops, for the regions of Calliana Male
(Malabar), and Sielediva (Ceylon). The Bactriaris, the Huns, the
Persarmeni, the Medes and Elamites, numbered, in their several
countries, large and flourishing congregations, who obeyed the
authority of the Chaldean patriarch.

In Arabia, the doctrines of Nestorianism appear to
have prevailed
for some time prior to the birth of Mohammed, who is reported to have
derived considerable information and assistance from Sergius, a
Chaldean monk. It is stated, on credible authority, that Jesujabus,
Patriarch of the Nestorians, went in company with Said, the chief of an
Arab-Christian tribe, to visit the Prophet at Mecca, and obtained from
him a written compact, whereby he promised to respect the faith and the
privileges of the Chaldeans of the East. The authenticity and
genuineness of this document have been much disputed, and those who
impugn its veracity have considered it as the forgery of some Nestorian
or Syrian monks, the latter of whom were, as is generally admitted, at
one time guilty of a similar fraud. Yet, when we consider the mutual
hostility which prevailed between these two sects, as well as the known
favor with which the Mohammedans afterwards treated the Nestorians, the
fact that such a grant emanated from the Arabian Impostor may be
considered at least probable.

This document commends the Christians to the good
will of the Arabs,
and charges that they shall not be molested or injured in any manner.
They are not to be compelled to change theircustoms or their
laws; and the aid of a Moslem may be lawfullyemployed in
rebuilding a ruined church. Priests and monks are not required to pay
tribute. A mode rate tax is placed upon both rich and poor, and it is
expressly forbidden that the Christian female servant or slave, who
serves inthe house of an Arab, should be molested in the
performance of her religious duties.100

Maremes, the successor of Jesujabus, is recorded to
have obtained
from Ali Ben Abi Taleb a similar document, in,reward for
certain services which he rendered the Moslem armyduring the
siege of Mosul, about A. D. 648. The Arabian conquerors seem to have
adhered faithfully to their written promises; and the successor of
Maremes, in writing to Simon, Metropolitan of Persia, commends the
honor which they bestowed on the saints and servants of God, their
veneration for Christianity, and even their gifts to churches and
convents.

It is not improbable, indeed, that the toleration
bestowed on the
Christians by the Moslem invader proceeded from a grateful sense of the
services which the former had rendered them during their campaigns in
Mesopotamia and Persia. The bigotry of the Magi had alienated the
affections of the Chaldeans from the Persian monarch, and they hoped,
doubtless, to find themselves less exposed to persecution under those
whose creed was partially adopted from their own.

CHAPTER XXV

Remarks on the ecclesiastical history of
the Chaldeans.

THE Arabian Caliphs of Baghdad were generally men of
a very
different character from the rude and ignorant fanatics who first
assumed to themselves the title of Successors of the Prophet. Several
members of the house of Abbas were distinguished by the encouragement
which they afforded to poetryand polite literature, while
the arts which they cultivated seem to have rendered their political
and religious sentiments more tolerant and humane. The Christians,
reviled and insulted in other parts of the East, found both protection
and support from the chief pontiffs of Islam. Their knowledge of
medicine and of Greek learning gained them favor from the polished
sovereigns, who amused their leisure hours by poetical compositions,
which have not been considered by posterity entirely void of merit.
Aristotle, Plato, and Hippocrates soon appeared in an Arabian dress,
while the skill of the Nestorian physicians rendered their services of
no small value to the caliphs and their nobles.

The Greek Melekites and the Syrian Jacobites seem to
have possessed
churches and congregations at Baghdad during the dynasty of the
Abbasides; but of all Christians, the Nestorians were held in the
greatest esteem. They had rendered signal services to the Mohammedan
cause; and it is not improbable that their known enmity to the Greeks
induced the Caliphs to regard them as more firm adherents than the
Melekites or Jacobites, both of whom were suspected of a secret
attachment to the emperors of the East.

Nor was it merely as physicians and scholars that
the Nestorians
distinguished themselves at this period. They obtained occasionally the
government of cities and provinces, a policy in which Abdallah, the son
of Suleiman, was supported and encouraged on one occasion by the Caliph
Motaded himself. Some zealous Mussulmen had accused the satrap to his
sovereign of showing more favor to Christians than was just and right.
The Caliph presented his officer with the written complaint, upon which
Abdallah answered, that he had, indeed, appointed trustworthy
Christians, Magians, and even Jews, to offices of trust; but that this
circumstance rendered him no more favorable to the religion of the one
than of the other.

The Caliph replied, "You do well to use the services
of Christians
when you can obtain them, and even to give them, a special preference
over Jews, Mohammedans, and Magi, seeing that their obedience and faith
are more praiseworthy than either of these. For the Jews expect a
future kingdom that will overthrow our power; the Mohammedans will
endeavor to circumvent thee and usurp thy dignity; while the Magi have
not forgotten their lost rule. Therefore, I deem it more politic that
thou shouldst commit the chief posts in thy province to Christians."

The Caliph's opinion seems to have influenced, also,
his successors,
and we find Christian governors were frequently appointed to the
provinces of Adiabene, Assyria, and Nisibis.101

The power of the Nestorian physicians and secretaries102 was not only
exerted in
protecting the members of their sect from the tyranny of the
Mohammedans, but it enabled them also to control the internal affairs
of their community. Their influence prevailed to a great extent in
ecclesiastical matters; they nominated and deposed patriarchs, and
appointed bishops, to their sees. A canon contained in the Chaldean
Pontifical recognizes their authority and their privileges, by
intrusting the election of patriarchs to a mixed assemblage of bishops,
priests, physicians, and scribes. On one occasion, we find Abraham, the
son of Noah, a physician, was permitted to name whom he would as the
chief of the Chaldean Church. His nominee, however, was opposed by Boch
Yesus, another layman, whose influence with the Caliph Motawakkel
enabled him to carry his point.

The Nestorian patriarch was recognized by the
Caliphs as the head of
all other Christians in their dominions. Some Greek inhabitants of
Baghdad sent a petition to the Patriarch of Antioch, in which they
begged him to appoint a metropolitan holding the Melekite faith to the
See of Seleucia. He complied with their request, and dispatched an
ecclesiastic, whose name was John, to assume the rank of a
metropolitan, and to regulate the affairs of the Greeks. But Abraham,
the head of the Nestorian Church, considering this act an invasion of
his privileges, carried the case before the wuzeer, who, being
propitiated by a large bribe, determined it in his favor, and decreed
that in future no Greek metropolitan or bishop should take up his
residence at Baghdad, seeing that the Patriarch of the Nestorians was
the only chief of the Christians recognized by law.

The Caliph, Moktadi Biamerallah, granted the
Patriarch Maehica a
document, in which the following terms occur: "The Commander of the
Faithful appointeth thee the catholicos of the Christian Nestorians
residing in Baghdad, the city of peace, and in the other provinces and
regions; he declareth thee their prelate, and the spiritual governor of
all Jacobites and Greeks also, who dwell in the countries of the
Mohammedans, or have come thither; and it is commanded that all obey
thy orders and commands."

Yet, notwithstanding these honors and privileges,
the state of the
Nestorians under the Caliphs was precarious and uncertain. The fickle
character of a despotism like that under which they lived often brought
them under the frown of the sovereign, when individual members of their
sect had been so unfortunate as to displease him. The intrigues of
ambitious patriarchs and aspiring laymen often rent the community
asunder, while under the Egyptian Caliph, Hakim Biamerallah, a
persecution was excited against the Christians, the effects of which
seem to have been felt as far as Baghdad.

It seems now a fitting opportunity to notice the
missions of the
Nestorians, and the character of the different regions and people
whither their enterprising missionaries penetrated.

Shortly after their expulsion from Edessa, a large
and.
flourishing school was formed by the Nestorians at Nisibis, which had
been recently taken by Sapor from the Romans. The captured city, it is
likely, was almost entirely peopled by Chaldean inhabitants, who
replaced those followers of the Greek rite that had accompanied Jovian
in his retreat. From Nisibis they penetrated into the provinces of
Upper and Lower Armenia, while a large number lived peaceably in
Cilicia and Asia Minor, under the protection of the princes of those
countries, and the Greek emperors. At a later period, we find them in
Palestine, and even in Cyprus, whither they had doubtless followed the
retreating crusaders.

But their chief success seems to have been in the
more eastern
regions of Asia. They gained numerous proselytes at an early period in
Persia, and from that kingdom they appear to have advanced into
Afghanistan, India, and Tartary.

The Chaldean writers inform us that St. Thomas was
the first who
announced the tidings of Christianity to the inhabitants of the Malabar
coast, where the Portuguese discovered large and flourishing
congregations, who entitled themselves the spiritual children of this
apostle. From Western India he proceeded to the Coromandel coast, which
he left for the remote regions of China, and preached with great
success in the city of Cambalu, which is supposed to be the modern
Pekin. From Cambalu he returned to the city of Meliapore, situated near
the modern town of Madras, and still known by the title of St. Thome,
where he suffered martyrdom, and in the vicinity of which he is said to
have been buried. The tradition seems to have prevailed from a very
early period, and the Roman and Armenian Christians of Madras still
point out a small hillock, eight miles from Fort St. George, which is
revered as the site of the apostle's tomb.

Whatever credit may be given to the above
statements, it appears
certain that, at a very early period, Nestorian priests and bishops
were found in the peninsula of India. The metropolitan who presided
over these was consecrated in Persia, and the primate of the latter
country deemed his ecclesiastical rule, in the seventh century, to be
sufficiently extensive to allow of his withdrawing himself from the
obedience of the Patriarch of Baghdad. In Guzzerat and Lahore, in
Candahar and Cabul, numerous bodies of Christians flourished in peace
and tranquillity, whose bishops were frequently summoned to the
councils held at Meliapore. In the sixteenth century, the number of the
Christians residing in the Malabar country was computed at nearly
thirty thousand families, but since the arrival of the English they
seem to have greatly decreased.

In the seventeenth century, these Nestorians of
India appear to have
withdrawn themselves from the communion of the Patriarch of Baghdad,
obtaining their bishops from the Syrian Pontiff of Mardin.

To the north-east of Persia extend the widely-spread
plains of
Tartary, which, from the earliest ages, were, inhabited by
wandering tribes, who maintain, even to this day, the habits of a
pastoral and nomadic race. The first remarkable notice of these warlike
shepherds occurs in the thirteenth century of the Christian era. The
first chieftain who possessed sufficient influence to cement together
the various conflicting hordes was Chengis, or Gengis Khan. Before his
time, the Tartars lived in subjection to the monarchs of Cathay, or
Chinaä and are spoken of by Bar Hebraeus as a race whose savage
and uncivilized habits provoked the disgust of their contemporaries.
Their clothing was composed of the skins of wolves and of dogs, and
they fed greedily on the carrion of dead animals. Their leader was
distinguished by an iron stirrup borne before him, which served as a
standard in their numerous predatory expeditions.

The religion of this wild people seems to have
resembled the rude
and baseless superstitions of the early Turcomans. They professed to
believe in a God, but they paid him neither honor nor worship, while
they received with avidity the predictions and advice of certain kami,
or soothsayers, whose credit was, however, destroyed by the contrivance
of Gengis Khan. Having understood that the Chinese possessed
magnificent idols, and priests of uncommon wisdom, be sent an embassy
to request that some of the latter might be sent him, promising to
treat them with great honor. When they arrived, he ordered the kami to
hold a public disputation with the new comers on the subject of
religion; but the ignorant soothsayers were soon silenced by their more
able antagonists, who reinforced their arguments by reading copious
extracts from a ritual which they entitled Num. With the illiterate,
the affectation of learning is frequently sufficient to convince or to
persuade, and the kami retreated from the arena pursued by the sheers
and ridicule of their late admirers. In this manner, the doctrines of
Budh appear, for the first time, to have been introduced among the
Tartars.

The first great exploit of Gengis was his successful
war. with Unch
Khan, a Tartar prince, who is supposed to be the same as the person
commonly known by the appellation of Prester, or Presbyter John. From
the epistle addressed by the latter to the Emperor of Constantinople,
there seems. reason to believe that many Tartar chiefs had embraced:
the Christian faith, and given protection and encouragement to the
labors of the Nestorian missionaries. Yet the polygamy of Prester John
and his intolerable pride appear contradictory to any form of
Christianity, and not a few learned men have considered the whole
epistle an ingenious fraud.

Gengis Khan, having assembled around him a large
number of vassals,
resolved to demand in marriage the daughter of Unch Khan. The latter
received the envoy with indignant pride, and answered that he could
better endure the death of his daughter than see her united to a slave.
Enraged at this uncourteous message, Gengis assembled his forces, and a
battle ensued, in which Unch Khan was defeated and slain.

The indifference of the princes of the house of
Gengis to their own
superstitions seems to have induced them to lend a ready ear to the
teaching of the Nestorians. John of Monte Corvino, who visited Tartary
in the fourteenth century, mentions the chief of a country called
Cambalieeb, who was converted by him from the Nestorian errors, to
which his brothers and family continued devotedly attached. A Nestorian
monk of the name of Babban was the confessor and privy councilor of the
daughter of Unch Khan after her marriage to Gengis. The character of
this person, however, does not appear to have reflected much credit
upon his religion. A European traveler describes him as deceiving the
Tartars by pretended gifts of divination, and as practicing the petty
arts of a merchant and a usurer.

An Armenian noble, in the thirteenth century, gives
the following
curious account of the Christians in the Tartar dominions: "Five years
after that the Tartars raised to the throne the younger khan, they
could scarcely be gathered together in one place, for some of them were
in India, others in the land of Katha, in Russia, in the land of
Chasqur, and in Tangarth. This last is the country from which the three
kings came to Bethlehem to adore Christ, and the men of that land are
also Christians. I was, on one occasion, in several of their churches,
where I saw pictures of Jesus Christ and, of the three kings; one
offering gold, another frankincense, and a third myrrh. The inhabitants
received the Christian faith from these three kings, and by them the
Cham and his nobles have been made Christians. They have churches near
his gates, in which they ring bells and beat boards103 to show that those who are
going in to the khan ought first to enter the church and salute the
Lord Jesus. We found many Christians scattered over the regions of the
East, and many large, handsome, and spacious churches which had been
destroyed by the Tartars. The khan treated the followers of Christ with
great honor and respect."

In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries,
Nestorian metropolitans
were dispatched to Tartary; and it is not improbable that some vestiges
of Christianity may yet be lingering in the cities of that vast and
unexplored region. Still, we may doubt, upon the whole, whether the
Nestorian missions effected any real and permanent good. The versatile
character of the Tartars often induced them to patronize the Nestorian
missionaries, and even to hold out hopes of conversion, which were
greedily seized upon, and industriously circulated. Yet impartial
travelers have recorded that the missionaries not unfrequently
disgraced their sacred character by pandering to the vices and
superstitions of the ignorant people they came to reclaim. They boasted
of their skill in divination, and asked a blessing on the vast goblets
whose intoxicating contents the wine-loving barbarians drained at a
single draught. Polygamy seems to have been permitted to the real or
imaginary converts, as attested by the Epistle of Prester John; nor
does the Christian faith appear to have made any solid impression on
the minds of the Tartars.

The kingdom of Cathay seems to have comprised the
more northern
regions of the Chinese Empire, whose present capital is Pekin, the
Cambalu of the older travelers. At the close of the seventh century, it
contained a large number of Christian inhabitants, who were under the
spiritual guidance of Nestorian teachers. In the seventeenth century, a
monument was discovered near the city of Segan-fu, which contained many
curious particulars with regard to the early introduction of
Christianity into China. The stone in question bore the figure of the
cross engraved at the top, beneath which were inscriptions in Chinese
and Syriac. The date of its erection is given as A. D. 781, and it
records the names of those who had preached Christianity in China from
the year 636.

The first section of the inscription contains a
disquisition on the
Trinity in Unity. - It represents God as having created all things from
nothing, and as forming man endowed with original righteousness, to
whose charge and dominion all human things have been subjected. It is
worthy of remark that, in this portion of the inscription, the Syriac
word Oloho is used in Chinese characters to express the Supreme Being.

Section 2 relates to the fall of Adam, and the
various errors of his
descendants, who, adoring the creature in the place of the Creator, are
said to have been divided into sixty-five sects.

Section 3 treats of the incarnation, nativity,
death, and
resurrection, of Jesus Christ; it notices, also, the books of the Old
and New Testaments, the nature of baptism, the veneration due to the
cross, and the necessity of worshiping towards the East.

Section 4 contains remarks on the preaching of the
apostles, onthe
sacred vestments used by Christians, ontheir civil habits and
manners. It mentions the beard worn by ecclesiastics, the tonsure,
fasting, and the seven daily hours of prayer.

Section 5 records the preaching the Christian
religion in the
regions of China by Olopuen, who is described as a native of Ta Sin, or
Syria. He enters China in the reign of Tai Sum, and his religion
receives the royal approval; the emperor causes a church to be built,
and assigns Olopuen twenty-one attendants. The Olopuen of the
inscription is supposed to be the Nestorian missionary Jaballaha.

Section 6. A description of Ta Sin, or Syria.

Section 7. A relation of the progress of
Christianity during the
reign of Cao Sum. The emperor being by no means degenerate from the
virtues of his. father, intends to continue the designs of the latter;
he charges that churches should be erected in all the provinces, and
honors Olopuen with the title bishop of the Great Law which governs the
kingdom of China. The law of God is spoken of as promulgated through
the ten provinces, and the multitude of churches and of congregations
is alluded to.

Section 8 treats of the persecution of the
Christians from A. D. 699
to A. D. 713, by the Bonzes in the province of Honan.

In section 9, and the twelve following, we find a
history of the
progress, persecutions, and successes of Christianity, from A. D. 719
to A. D. 782.

That this tablet contains a true history of the
efforts of the
Nestorian missionaries during the above-mentioned periods seems beyond
the possibility of doubt. It is probable that Christianity prevailed in
the northern parts of China until the subjugation of the Chinese
dynasties by Gengis Khan, and that Unch Khan, or Prester John, was the
last of these native princes. Whether, however, the Chinese sovereigns
embraced the Gospel, or merely encouraged and protected its professors,
maybe regarded as an unsettled point. That many conversions were made
is certain, but the missionaries seem to have been too little desirous
of maintaining the purity of religion uncorrupted. They have been
accused of allowing polygamy to the converts of rank, of overlooking
many of their excesses, and of persecuting the Latin missionaries who
penetrated into China at the commencement of the fourteenth century.

Nor does it seem easy to account for the fact of the
sudden
disappearance ofChristianity in China, except we admit, as
candor compels us, that its first promulgation was accompanied by many
defects, and even positive errors, on the part of those who first
announced it to the Chinese. Yet to mar that which should be perfect by
faults proceeding from human imperfection is a law of human action,
whose operation is witnessed too frequently to excite in a reasonable
mind either indignation or surprise. The frailty of our common nature
renders it more easy to point out the defects of others than to
recognize or amend our own, and it is always less difficult to censure
than to imitate, even in its imperfection, a noble and virtuous
undertaking.

The expulsion of the Tartar emperors in the
fourteenth century, and
the restoration of the dynasty of the Mim family, seem to have caused
the ruin of Christianity in China. In A. D. 1517, the Portuguese
merchants at Canton could discover no person who professed himself a
Christian, though they often met with crosses and other relics of the
Nestorian and Latin missionaries. In fact, the very name of our faith
seemed to have been abolished; and it was only the discovery of the
monument before alluded to that could induce the Europeans to believe
that there had ever been Christians in China.

At the commencement of the seventeenth century, a
Jew of Cai-fiun-fu
informed the Jesuit missionary Ricci that, sixty years before, a large
number of Christians occupied the northern provinces of China, who were
called, in the language of the country, "the Adorers of the Cross." By
the ill offices of the Mohammedans, the suspicions of the government
were excited against them, and a severe persecution.
commenced, which led many to embrace Judaism and the creed of Islam.
Their churches were either destroyed or turned into private houses, and
they were induced, from fear of the magistrates, to conceal their
origin and former faith. Ricci afterwards traveled to the region
indicated by the Jew; but he could obtain no satisfaction from his
inquiries or researches: and this report, which, however, seems to bear
the marks of probability on its surface, is the last tidings that have
been obtained of the once extensive and flourishing Chinese Nestorian
Church.

The position of the Nestorians of Assyria under the
Tartar
successors of the Caliphs appears to have been as favorable as they
could desire. The mother of Hulaku Khan was well disposed towards the
Christians, who even considered her a second Helena. In 1248,
messengers came from Kyokay Khan to St. Louis, to treat about an
alliance against the Saracens. In his letters, the khan alludes to
himself as a Christian, and professes that he regards with equal favor
the Armenians, the Jacobites, and the Nestorians. In 1258 A. D., the
Tartars captured Baghdad, "and destroyed the power of the Caliphs. One
of the wives of their leaders Hulaku is said to have been a Christian,
and by her influence the Saracen mosques were shut up, or converted
into churches, while the Mohammedans suffered some persecution, and
were afraid to appear in public.

After the death of Hulaku, his son and successor
Huolon entered into
alliances with the Christian monarchs of Georgia and Armenia, and
planned, in conjunction with them, an expedition to the Holy Land,
which design, however, was frustrated by his death. During the
following reign, a tumult was excited at Baghdad by the report that the
Nestorian patriarch had caused a renegado from Christianity to
Mohammedanism to be drowned in the Tigris. He denied the accusation
strenuously, but was obliged to fly to Arbela in order to escape the
violence of the populace. His successor was Jaballaha, a man of
exemplary piety, who sent a confession of his faith to the reigning
pontiff, Nicholas IV.

Under Bayid, the grandson of Hulaku, the Nestorians
received much
favor and assistance. The monarch was wise, chaste, and temperate, and
it was even said that he had secretly embraced the Christian faith. His
favor to the Nestorians awakened the jealousy of the Mohammedans, who
intrigued against him, secretly with a Tartar chief named Casan or
Kazan. The latter, affecting great zeal for the Koran, was joined by a
large number of the Moslems, by the aid of whom he put Bayid to death,
and mounted his throne. He did not, however, keep the promises which he
had made to his allies, but soon began to favor the Christians, though
he permitted, at first, a severe persecution against them.

The successor of Casan had been educated by his
mother in the
Christian faith, and had even received the sacrament of baptism; but
after his accession he apostatized to the Mohammedan tenets, although
he does not appear to have molested his Christian subjects.

In the fourteenth century, Tamerlane overran
Chaldea, Assyria, and
Mesopotamia, captured the city of Baghdad, and treated the Christians
with savage cruelty. On one occasion, however, the heart of a conqueror
was softened by an act of heroic self-devotion. The Tartars had
besieged the fortress of Ardua, and menaced unpitying slaughter to its
defenders. Fearful of the result of the siege, an aged bishop, by name
Behnam, issued forth, alone and unarmed, to entreat the mercy of the
besiegers. Throwing himself at the feet of their general, he implored
them to accept his life as a ransom for the devoted garrison. The son
of Tamerlane was moved; he bestowed upon the aged suppliant a
handkerchief as a token of protection; and withdrew his forces from the
fortress to the attack of some less favored city.

Nothing of importance occurs in the history of the
Nestorians until
the sixteenth century, when a formidable schism broke out amongst them.
About a hundred years before, a patriarch, whose name was Simon or
Shimon, had introduced a custom whereby the patriarchal dignity was to
remain in his family as an hereditary honor. This must have occurred
shortly after the removal of the patriarchate from Baghdad to Mosul,
during the troubles occasioned by the invasion of Tamerlane. At that
time, the Nestorians were in a most depressed condition; and such an
arrangement was doubtless deemed, necessary in order to secure and
regulate the succession. For some years, this custom continued without
opposition;, but, in 1551, the patriarchal line was represented by a
single individual, entitled Simeon Bar Mama, whose haughtiness and love
of innovation had aroused against him a great number of the Nestorian
clergy.

The Bishops of Amida, Nisibis, Mardin, Arbela, and
other places,
assembled at Mosul in council, overlooked the pretensions of Bar Mama,
and elected John Sulaka or Sind, a monk of Rabban Hormuzd, to fill the
patriarchal throne. A still larger faction seems to have supported the
cause of Bar Mama, who appears to have prevailed over his rival,
maintaining his claim to the patriarchate successfully. Sulaka then
repaired to Rome, ostensibly to seek for consecration, but really to
enlist the pope's influence in his favor. He was well received, and
obtained the object of his wishes by a specious and acceptable
confession of faith, whereupon, returning to the East, he fixed the
seat of the patriarchate at Amida, which has since continued the head
quarters of the Romish Chaldeans. It is asserted, though perhaps not on
the most trustworthy authority, that, soon after his return, Bar Mama
obtained, by his influence with the Turks, the destruction of his
rival.

After this event, the Nestorian Church seems to have
been divided
into three sections, at the head of which appear the Patriarchs of
Amida, Mosul, and Gelu. Of these, the former had from the commencement
considered themselves the faithful vassals of Rome, and were regarded
as the chiefs of the papal Chaldeans. In A. D. 1580,.the Metropolitan
of Gelu revolted from the jurisdiction of Elias of Mosul, and got
himself appointed Patriarch of the Kurdish and Persian Chaldeans at
Rome. His successors, however, seem afterwards to have thrown off the
papal authority, and to have maintained their independence among the
mountains of Kurdistan.

In A. D. 1622, the missionaries of the Carmelite and
Capucin orders
appeared in Assyria, and commenced vigorously their operations among
the Nestorians. Many were induced to yield a nominal and hollow
obedience, and, in 1629, the Patriarch Elias of Mosul sent a profession
of submission to the pope, which doubtless exercised some influence
over those who adhered still to the doctrines of Nestorius.

At the period of our visit, the term Nestorian
plight have been
confined to the mountaineers of Kurdistan, and the inhabitants of the
Persian city of Ouromiah. They still resist with great firmness the
intrusion of any Roman missionary; but their numbers are rapidly
decreasing, and, soon the descendants of those whose
spiritual jurisdiction extended over some of the most populous and
flourishing countries of Asia will probably be reduced to a small and
insignificant sect, whose numbers may be computed by individuals.

The surviving Nestorians still hold in words the
same creed which
was promulgated by Bar Surnas and his followers, though it may be
doubted whether they enter into or comprehend its subtilties. But the
whole of both clergy and laity are so deeply immersed in ignorance that
they are scarcely capable of defending or explaining their doctrines.
The American independent missionaries have established schools among
them at Ouromiah, which are, I believe, well attended.

In concluding these remarks, I cannot but hope that
some measures
may be taken by the English government to procure the restoration of
this poor and persecuted race to the mountain homes from which they
were so barbarously driven. Whatever their theological errors may be,
and I have endeavored neither to extenuate nor defend them, the people
themselves are deeply deserving of our sympathy and pity. Suffering for
the sake of Christianity, they have a right to claim the support of a
Christian nation, and of a church that, with all her failings, has
never shown herself willing to trample on or slight the destitute and
oppressed.

CHAPTER XXVI

As I was sitting, one evening, in my house at Mosul,
endeavoring to
extract some warmth from the wood fire which blazed before me, the
servant announced an individual of singular appearance, who, he said,
wished to have some conversation with me. I bade my new visitor be
seated, and handed him a pipe, while, during the customary salutations,
I took a short survey of his figure and habiliments. He was a man of
middle age, with a wild, haggard countenance, and dull, glassy eye,
which, when seated, he fixed intently on one corner of the ceiling, and
never took them off until his departure. I was wondering what he could
have to say to me, but, after a short pause, he inquired abruptly, "Do
you not know me? I am a friend to the djin" (genii).

I now recollected that I had seen him exhibit some
conjuring tricks
at one of the houses in Mosul, and, after acknowledging the
acquaintance, I asked what his business might be. He seemed scarcely to
notice my question, but, after a little while, he said, "Should you
like to see the djin?"

"What do they resemble, O man?" I inquired. "Are
they very
frightful?"

"On my head, no," he answered. "They are very
handsome and comely,
and there are those among them who are like the houries, which our
Prophet--may he enjoy happiness!--promised to the true believers in
Paradise. Doubtless you wonder that I should ask you if you would see
them, but you will not be surprised when you hear the reason. Know,
then, that the djin do not dress as the Easterns do; they are not
habited in turbans, zeboons, and flowing abbas, but they appear in
short coats of cloth, in pantour,104
and in hats."

"Hats, do you say?" I exclaimed.

"Upon my head, hats," he replied; "and, from the
similarity of
dress, I presumed there might be some connection between them and the
Ingleez, the more particularly as your people are always digging for
treasures, which every child knows are under the special guardianship
of the djin. Thinking, therefore, that you might like to see them, I
have brought a form of incantation, which, if you like, I will sell you
for a few piastres "

I took the paper he offered me, and found it was
composed of a
number of Arabic words, which to me were perfectly unintelligible,
written round a kind of circle divided into four compartments, each of
which was inscribed with the name of an angel.

"How is this to be used?" I inquired.

"You must draw a circle on the floor at midnight,"
he said, "with
the blood of a black cock. You must then place within it four vessels
of incense towards the four corners of the earth. When these rites have
been duly performed, light the incense, and begin to read from the
paper. The genii will then appear on every side of you, and, it may be,
will tempt you to step out of the circle, which you must on no account
do, or you will be torn in pieces by them. As long as you remain
within, ask any questions you choose, and they must answer. Nay, should
you command them to show you, the palaces of Nimroud the Accursed, they
are bound to obey"

Feeling, however, in nowise inclined to figure in a
Der Freyschutz
scene of this kind, I returned him his paper, and addressed him on the
folly and wickedness of his pretensions. He still persisted, however,
that he was in league with the djin; nor could he see any impropriety
in practicing an art which had always been tolerated by El Islam.
Finding, at last, that I declined purchasing his wares, he took his
departure. What struck me as most singular in this interview was his
assertion that the genii resembled in their appearance the natives of
Europe. The same thing, however, was told me by a heathen in India
respecting the evil spirits who were supposed to haunt a wood in the
neighborhood of his village. They appeared, he said, in English
dresses, used English oaths, and were carried about in palanquins. This
differs greatly from our common notion of the supernatural world,
according to which we are accustomed to depict immortal forms as
resembling Orientals, and clothed in all the flowing drapery of the
East.

The next clay I received a visitor of a very
different description.
He was a mollah, from a neighboring mosque, who had often obtained from
us small pamphlets in Arabic on moral subjects. The contents of these
books he was wont to transfer to his Friday sermon, omitting carefully,
of course, any allusions to Christianity which they might contain. The
mollah had great hopes of the English, because he found that they did
not venerate images, and he seemed not to despair of effecting my
conversion. We, therefore, entered sometimes into long arguments on the
truth of Islamism, but generally ended where we began. My antagonist
was, however, more mild and temperate than many of his brethren; he
professed to repudiate persecution, and asserted that the sensual
descriptions of paradise contained in the Koran were to be understood
figuratively, and by no means according to the letter. He showed some
logical skill in defending the Mohammedan view of the Unity, but failed
in making out the authenticity and genuineness of the Koran.

After his departure, my servant Yusef, whom I had
taken lately in
the place of Toma, began to abuse the mollah. "Do not trust his fine
words and his fair professions, O my master," said be. "This mollah,
like the rest, is a wolf with the skin of a sheep. Have I not heard him
rail against Christians, and swear that we ought to be exterminated?
You hear him now; he is mild and gentle; but stand behind him when he
is with the cacti and mufti, and verily you will have a different tone.
We Christians know these dogs of old. When Franks are before them, all
is smiles and civility; the poor Christian is then their brother and
their friend; but when the stranger is gone, it is nothing but kicks,
and cuffs, and 'Out of -my way, you Nazarene dog!' Do I not know by
experience these unclean Kafirs?"

My friend Kas Botros has already been mentioned in
these pages as a
good relator of stories, an accomplishment which drew around him every
evening a large and attentive circle of auditors. Frequently, when I
have -shared the hospitality of his roof, I have heard a
grave discussion wound up by a pertinent anecdote or an amusing tale.
On one occasion, he had been remarking the importance of choosing fit
persons to perform difficult commissions, and ended his discourse by
the usual question, " Shall I tell you a tale P? to which, having
assented, he began.

"There was once in Baghdad a Sultan who was so great
a patron of
ingenuity that he readily forgave all inconveniences which it might
occasion him. His doors were never closed against the ready-witted or
the eccentric, and, provided their sayings and doings entertained him,
he was by no means niggardly in rewarding them. The clumsy jester,
however, or the witless narrator generally suffered in proportion to
his presumption, for the royal critic contented himself not with mere
satire or censure, but made his soles sore with the bastinado. Thus,
while success elevated the fortunate to the seventh heaven, those who
failed were thrust clown to Gehennam, and from the royal judgment there
was no appeal. Boys ran after the unfortunates in the streets, and
shouted 'There go the disappointed buffoons!'

"In the same city, lived a fisherman named Abd el
Aziz, whose
poverty-stricken habitation was never visited by prosperity. Day after
day he toiled to procure for himself a bare subsistence, and though he
succeeded in warding off starvation, lie never earned enough to repel
the necessity for labor. This state of things grieved Abd el Aziz, who
was by no means partial to work.

"One day, as he was returning mournfully from the
Tigris with, empty
nets, he espied a man, habited in rich robes, riding a
gayly-caparisoned steed. A large multitude followed hips with
acclamations, and the curiosity of the fisherman being excited, be
asked who it was. A passer-by informed himthat the fortunate
horseman had just furnished a most witty answer to one of the Sultan's
very difficult riddles, and had obtained all this honor in consequence.
The unfortunate fisherman sighed as he thought of the difference
between the circumstances of the answerer and his own, and he strode
moodily home to his wife, Aisha, who expected to see him return with a
net full of fish. Her disappointed looks may well be conceived when she
saw the empty nets; and being, like most females of her class, somewhat
of a shrew, she did not spare her husband, but poured forth with great
volubility an angry harangue, the terms of which might somewhat
astonish those of you Franks who represent the women of the East as the
meek, gentle, and unresisting slaves of man.

"The poor fisherman listened in silence to the
reproaches which were
so liberally showered upon him, for he knew that remonstrance would
only increase wrath. He sat for some time without making any reply, but
at last, starting up with the air of one who has formed a desperate
resolution, said, 'I will go to the presence of the Sultan, and try
what fortune will befall me there.'

"'Are you mad?' inquired his wife. 'Shall a man who
has not wit
enough to catch fish hope to succeed in an undertaking wherein so many
wiser heads have failed? Are you our Lord Suleiman, O man, that you
should aspire to answer the riddles of the Sultan? Truly you will
return with sore soles and a broken heart, if you thus presume.'

"'Woman,' said the fisherman, 'your clamors would
deprive even
Lokman of sense. Happen what may, I can scarcely encounter severer
strokes than those your tongue gives me. Speak no more, therefore, but
let me go my way in peace. If it is written that I die, it is useless
to attempt avoiding the stroke of fate.'

"Aisha repented of her ill humor, and gave vent to a
flood of tears.
Much as she scolded her husband occasionally, she really loved him at
the bottom, and when she saw him going forth in moody silence, she
could not conceal her apprehension that something evil would happen.
The fisherman, however, took no notice of her entreaties and tears. He
walked briskly along, and soon arrived at the gate of the mosque, where
the people of his district assembled for the Friday prayers. A poor,
ragged devotee, with a long, gray beard, was seated near the gate,
rocking his body to and fro, and reciting, in a nasal chant, the words
of the Koran which enjoin the sacred duty of almsgiving. Abd el Aziz
felt in the pocket of his gown, and with some difficulty discovered a
para.

"'I may be going to my death,' thought be, I and an
act of charity
will render my passage more easy over the bridge that leadeth to
paradise.' He gave the money to the devotee, and requested the benefit
of his prayers.

"May Allah and the Prophet help your enterprise, my
son, whatever it
may be P said the old man, as he received the gift.

"The fisherman felt his spirits grow lighter as he
moved on, and,
for the first time, a ray of hope shot across his mind. Arrived at the
gate of the palace, he desired to be admitted into the presence of the
king.

"'Look to your head and your heels, my friend,' said
the porter;
'those who please not our lord seldom come off with both scatheless.'

"He admitted him, however, and in a few minutes the
fisherman stood
before the Sultan, who was sitting down to dinner with his wuzeer, his
favorite Sultana, and his two sons. When his majesty understood the
name and errand of his guest, he pointed to a roast fowl which had just
been brought in, and bade him make a proper division of the several
parts to each member of the company. A large knife was then placed into
the hands of Abd el Aziz, with which he cut off the head, the breast,
the wings, and the legs of the bird. Then, kneeling respectfully to the
Sultan, he presented him gravely with the head, saying, 'Let the head
go to him who is, under Allah, head over all.' Taking the breast, he
offered it to the Sultana, and said, 'The breast to her who is the
breast of the king.' Giving the wings to the minister, he said, 'Let
the wings go to him who supports the Sultan, and by whose wise counsels
the monarch directs his course.' The legs he presented to the king's
sons, with the remark, 'The legs of a king are a brave, healthy, and
affectionate offspring.'

"But there remains yet the body of the fowl, O Abd
el Aziz,'
observed the Sultan. 'To whom shall that be given?'

"'To, myself, O king,' was the reply; 'for are not
the subjects of a
monarch those who nourish him, his sons, and his ministers? Are we not,
also, the back that always bears burdens?'

"'You have accomplished your task well, and have
deserved my
approbation,' said the Sultan. 'Henceforth your face is white before
me. Slaves, escort Abd el Aziz to his house, give him a horse, a dress
of honor, and fifty pieces of gold.'

"The king's orders were instantly obeyed, and Aisha
could scarcely
credit the evidence of her senses when she saw her husband riding along
like an emir, with a splendid robe, and attended by attendants richly
dressed. The gratification was still further increased when he showed
her the money which he had received from the Sultan.

"Abd el Aziz went to his rest that evening a happy
man; but, as
prosperity had not made him idle, he departed, as usual, the next
morning to his customary occupation. Aisha, however, was soon beset by
a numerous crowd of her female acquaintances, who were speedily put in
possession of every thing that had occurred. Among them was a sour,
discontented woman, whose name was Fatima, and whose husband exercised
the calling of a cobbler near the house of the fisherman. This person
returned home in an ill humor, and began to inveigh bitterly against
the stupidity of her helpmate.

"'Is it well, O Father of Sloth,' said she, 'that
you sit here from
day today mending old papouches, while your neighbor finds gold in the
streets? Have you no brains, O man, that you cannot invent smart
replies? or is your tongue cut out, that you cannot utter them? Upon my
head, you have no more ingenuity than the donkey of an Arab.'

"Now the cobbler had no small opinion of his own
abilities, and he
was by no means pleased with these reproaches of his wife. However, he
determined first to discover the cause of her anger, which he soon
found out was the unexpected prosperity of Abd el Aziz. The discovery
excited his envy and indignation also, for the honest fisherman had
always been an object of contempt to him. He bade his wife be silent,
and assured her that the would at once go to the palace, and doubted
not that he should return with a present double in value to that which
his neighbor had obtained. He immediately left his work, and went in
search of Abd el Aziz, from whom he obtained an account of his
interview with the Sultan. Thinking himself now fully prepared for the
task which he had undertaken, the cobbler lost no time in presenting
himself before the Sultan.

"After saluting the monarch in the usual way, he
explained that,
hearing of his neighbor's good fortune, he had ventured to solicit that
he might be accorded a similar trial of his abilities. The Sultan
replied that he accepted the proposal, and commanded a fowl to be
brought, which he bade the cobbler show his skill in dividing. Now the
latter was determined to pay the Sultan a greater compliment than his
neighbor had done; so he said, "O king, take thou the whole, for no one
else is worthy of sharing with thee.'

"But the Sultan replied, with a frown, 'Shall then
my wife, my sons,
and my minister go without anything?'

"'Surely, O my lord,' said the cobbler; 'for whose
dogs are they
that they should be partakers in the portion of him who is as the
shadow of Allah upon earth'?'

"Then the Sultan grew wroth, and said, 'O Father of
Bears, from what
Arab or Kurd didst thou learn these manners, or from whence hast thou
derived the impudence to suppose that I resemble thee in thy
ill-breeding? Am I a wild beast, that I should feed alone like a lion
in his den, or like the tiger who drinketh in his solitude the blood of
the traveler? But I will give thee some lessons in politeness which
will enlighten thy stupidity; and that thou mayest remember them,
behold, thou shalt eat fifty sticks.'

"The Sultan then, with his own hand, divided the
bird among those
who sat near him, reserving none for himself, while the cobbler
received the fifty blows as his share of the repast, and limped home,
amid the sneers and ridicule of the people. Thus we see that success in
a matter depends upon the management of him who undertakes it."

When I returned home, I found that Bishop Matti, the
Syrian Jacobite
whom we met at the monastery of Zaphran, had arrived on a special
mission from the patriarch, and was expected to celebrate a special
service at the principal Syrian church. My friend B---- and myself were
invited to attend, and were accommodated with seats within the large
recess, which is termed the Holy of Holies, and which was separated by
a large curtain from the nave of the church. At first this curtain was
drawn up, and some preliminary ceremonies commenced.

The bishop was seated in an arm-chair, holding a
cross in his hand,
while four stout Syrian deacons lifted him on their shoulders, and
paraded him round the church. The profession, however, was anything but
dignified, as the crowd was very great, and every one endeavored to get
near the chair. The poor bishop was borne to and fro by his supporters,
evidently in great peril of falling out of his seat, while the choir
sang, or rather shouted, a hymn, and accompanied their voices with the
clashing of several pairs of cymbals, which are the only species of
instrumental music tolerated in the Syrian Church. When the procession
was over, the bishop mounted the altar, the curtain was letdown, and
the Liturgy proceeded more quietly, though the mode in which the
responses were made would rather have scandalized an English audience.
Yet I saw a great many among the worshipers whose devotion seemed
evidently heartfelt and sincere; and, doubtless, could the Syrians have
been present at one of our churches, they would have been equally
astonished to find that a people who profess to entertain so much more
pure and untainted religious feeling than all other nations, invariably
sit or loll when they are offering up their prayers.

Most persons form a most extravagant estimate of the
cleanliness of
Orientals in general, because they have heard or read that the East is
the land of the bath; and yet nothing can be more filthy than the
habits of the great mass of the people. Those who hear of their visits
to the bath should be told also that they rarely wash themselves at any
other time than the hours of prayer, when a little water is poured,
over the hands and arms, and a wet thumb inserted in the orifice of
each ear. Among the middle classes, few take the bath oftener than once
a month, and, with the exception of the ritual purifications I have
alluded to, which amount to very little, this may be considered the
only real cleansing which most Orientals undergo. The visit to the bath
is therefore trade a matter of some importance, and the day on which it
occurs is marked out as a holiday. When the cleans e has taken place,
the Eastern wraps himself luxuriously in clean towels, and discusses
the news of the neighborhood over pipes and coffee.

At one o'clock, in the day, the males take their
departure, and the
women use the building till sunset. The bath supplies the same source
of recreation to an Eastern lady that balls and parties do to their
European sisters. Here each khatoun105
meets her female friends, discusses scandal and fashions, and deplores'
the jealousy or inconstancy of her husband. Sometimes curiosity leads a
European lady to the bath, which she has no sooner entered than a
loquacious and inquisitive crowd surrounds her. All flock to examine
the dress and the appearance of the stranger, and it is well if she is
enabled to escape, uninjured in temper or equanimity, from their
searching scrutiny.

At home, the Eastern woman is a very child in her
language,
thoughts, and habits. European ladies have told the of their
interrupting the mistress of a Turkish mansion in the agreeable pastime
of throwing pillows at her attendants, while sometimes she has been
discovered demolishing whole platefuls of sweetmeats. The rank of the
husband never relieves the wife from the necessity of superintending
the culinary preparations of the household. Even the spouse of a pasha
usually cooks her husband's dinner, of which, however, she does not
partake.

We often form exaggerated notions of the unhappiness
of Turkish
women; yet we must remember that what would be considered here a
degradation would there be looked upon as a necessary part of female
modesty. An Oriental female would deem herself lowered in the opinion
of others, and in her own, if she went unveiled, or sat down at the
same table with men. The customs, therefore, which impose these
restrictions upon her are regarded by her as deductions from the
natural rules of right conduct, and are, therefore, not felt as
degrading, or even as tyrannical. Were the Oriental female solicited to
go about as European ladies do, she would reject the suggestion as a
most grievous insult.

One peculiarity to the social parties of the East is
the absence of
all females. Among the Christians, women sometimes sit down with their
husbands and receive their guests, if those guests are Europeans; but
this is rarely, if ever, done when the persons invited are Orientals.
It is considered also indecent for people of different sexes to be seen
together in public, although the closest ties of relationship may exist
between them. I shall never forget the unqualified stare of
astonishment with which an Eastern lady regarded me when I informed her
that in England husbands walked abroad in company with their wives.

An Oriental friend, having entertained the idea of
marrying a
European, applied to me for information respecting the probable wants
and requirements of his future bride in prospectu, His countenance
lengthened as I enlarged, upon the necessity of allowing his wife to
mix in society where males were admitted, and of tolerating her going
abroad without a veil. After a few moments' thought, however, he said
"All this, I suppose, is right, according to the customs of the Franks;
and, as I must not expect her to change the habits in which she has
been educated, I suppose I must consent to her following manners to
which, I own, my Eastern mind is repugnant. But is there anything
else?"

"Yes," I replied; "you must give her your arm when
she has a mind to
walk abroad."

"That," he replied, "I will not and cannot do. But
is it absolutely
necessary?"

"It is," I answered.

"Then the marriage is at an end," observed he,
decidedly; "for, were
she a houri from Paradise, I would never have her on those terms."

The early age at which Easterns generally marry
tends to prevent the
occurrence of much evil, and acts as a restraint to vicious habits. But
a young couple do not, as with us, immediately commence housekeeping on
their own account. The newly-wedded pair reside with the father and
mother of the husband, and continue in their house sometimes for years.
I know of no sight more interesting than that of an, aged Oriental,
with his long gray beard and venerable aspect, presiding over a whole
circle of married sons. It has often brought vividly before me the
patriarchs of Holy Writ.

It is a custom in Assyria to call the father by the
name of his
eldest son. Thus, supposing the appellation of the latter to be,
Mohammed, the father would be termed Abou Mohammed, the father of
Mohammed; and this compound title is often substituted for his proper
name. On one occasion, an old gentleman, entitled Ismail, who was much
respected by his neighbors, was so unfortunate as to have no son from
his to derive an honorific appellation. What was to be done? All the
neighbors agreed it would be a great shame that so respectable and
worthy a man should be called all his life plain Ismail. A mollah was
called into consultation, and it was determined, by a species of legal
fiction, to de nominate him Abou Ahmed, the father of Ahmed. He had
been known by this name for a year or two, when be married again, and a
son was born, to whom, in acknowledgment of the kindness of his
neighbors, he gave the name of Ahmed.

CHAPTER XXVII

Remarks on the Syrian Jacobites.

THE Syrian Jacobites have been alluded to so often,
in the course of
these pages, that it seems proper to insert a few remarks on their
history and peculiar opinions, the more especially as they constitute a
considerable portion of the Eastern Christians. Various derivations
have been given of the name Jacobite, by which they are generally
known. Some writers of this sect have affected to deduce it from the
appellation of the Patriarch Jacob, or from that of St. James or
Jacobos, the brother of our Lord. The most probable derivation,
however, seems to be founded on the supposition that it was an
appellative fastened on the followers of Jacobus Baradaeus by the
orthodox, about a century and a half after the Council of Chalcedon.

The latter synod was held, A. D. 451, to condemn the
opinions of
Eutyches, an abbot of Constantinople, who, in his eager detestation of
the doctrines of Nestorius, had fallen into the opposite extreme, and
pronounced that there was but one nature in Christ. The term itself was
comparatively harmless, as it seems to have been used by the Egyptian
and Syrian doctors before his time; but, from thelanguage of
Eutyches, it appeared that he affixed to it a peculiar sense of his
own, and considered the humanity of the Saviour as swallowed, up in his
divinity. The condemnation of. these opinions by the council gave rise
to a new sect, whowere sometimes called Monophysites, or
holders of the doctrine of the one nature, and sometimes Eutychians,
from the nine of their founder. Great numbers of the Easterns
distinguished themselves by their opposition to the decrees of
Chalcedon, and, in the course of twenty years, the new opinions had
pervaded Armenia, Pontus, Mesopotamia, Syria, and Egypt.

Towards the close of the fifth century, an attempt
was made by the..
Emperor Zeno to heal the divisions of the church by the publication of
the Henoticon or Act of Union, whereby the existence of the Council of
Chalcedon was virtually ignored. Of the five great patriarchs of the
Christian world, Acacius of Constantinople, Peter Mongus of Alexandria,
and Peter Fullo of Antioch, subscribed this decree, which, doubtless,
would have finally resulted in the establishment of the Monophysite
doctrine in the East. But when the defenders of Chalcedon discovered
the probable tendencies of the Henoticon, they began to oppose it
warmly, in which they were joined by the ultra Monophysites, whom
nothing would content short of the total condemnation of that council
and its decrees.106

The Henoticon, though it failed in effecting the
union of the
different parties in the church, produced a modification of the
Eutychian or Monophysite doctrine, which seems to have been first
propounded by Xenaias and Fullo, two of the chief leaders of the
Monophysites. They taught, what indeed their followers received and
hold at the present day, that in, the Son of God there was one nature,
which, not withstanding its unity, was double and compounded. This
seeming self-contradictory tenet was adopted, doubtless, to avoid
expressing their assent in words to the Council of Chalcedon, while, in
point of fact, they admitted in substance the doctrine which it
inculcated.

The Emperors Justin and Justinian persecuted the
Monopbysites with
the most unrelenting severity, so that, during the sixth century, their
numbers seem to have greatly diminished. The latter emperor seized and
imprisoned the principal leaders of the sect, and endeavored to force
them to give in their adhesion to the Council of Chalcedon. Fearing
lest the interests of the community might suffer by their perpetual
imprisonment or death, the captive prelates consecrated to the
episcopal office an obscure monk, whose name was Jacob Bar Adai, or
Baradaeus. Being a man of great energy, and industrious zeal, he went
about reviving the drooping hopes of the Monophysites, and eventually
succeeded in re-establishing the almost extinct community. He is said,
in the course of his travels, to have ordained one hundred thousand
priests and deacons, twenty bishops, one archbishop, and two
patriarchs, one of whom he established at Alexandria, and the other at
Antioch. It is doubtful whether this account may be taken exactly to
the letter but it, is certain that Baradaeus may be considered as the
second founder and restorer of the Monophysite sect; the Syrian members
of which have derived from him the appellation of Jacobites. He ruled
the See of Edessa as bishop for thirty seven years, and died A. D. 678.

During the sixth century, a great and grievous
plague seems to have
invaded the regions of Asia, occupied chiefly by the Monophysites. An
account of this fearful visitation has been transmitted to us by John,
who at that time was the chief bishop of the sect in Asia. He prefaces
his narration by the declaration that he had received a sort of
inquisitorial commission from Justinian to search for the professors of
the ancient pagan idolatry, great numbers of whom were concealed in the
cities of Asia under the external cloak of conformity to Christianity.
Many persons distinguished for their rank and learning were detected
among the recur saints, one of whom, named Phocas, a man of patrician
dignity, when he found himself betrayed to Justinian, swallowed poison,
and died. His body was thrown into a pit, and exposed to public view,
while the other pagans were ordered to assemble themselves in the
Syrian Church, and receive instruction from John in the doctrines of
Christianity. The indefatigable prelate records that he traversed with
unwearied diligence the regions of Asia, Caira, Lydia, and Phrygia,
where he converted and baptized seventy thousand individuals. It seems
strange, however, that Justinian, who was known to be most inimical to
the Monophysites, should have intrusted such important avocations to
one whom he must have considered a perverse and obstinate heretic.

The year following that in which John accomplished
his arduous
mission, he relates that the city of Cyzicum was visited by an
earthquake, while a comet of fearful magnitude appeared in the west.
Brazen vessels, manned by headless navigators, were reported to have
been discovered at sea; directing their course towards those places
which were afterwards visited by the plague. This fearful scourge
overran Gaza, Ascalon, the whole region of Palestine, and pursued its
course over the countries of Mesopotamia, Cilicia, Mysia, and Bithynia.

In Egypt, a whole city was depopulated by the
plague, with the
exception of seven men, and a boy of ten years of age. The survivors
employed themselves in collecting together the riches of the town,
which they gathered into one immense heap; and afterwards the men fell
down and expired. The lad, affrighted at what had befallen his
companions, left the treasure and fled. He reached the gate in safety,
but was there met by a spectral form, who persuaded him to return to
the place where he had left his companions. The youth obeyed, and
perished.

At another city in the confines of Palestine, the
inhabitants were
deceived by some evil spirits, who assumed the garb and appearance of
angels, and persuaded the people that they should be safe from the
plague if they would adore a brazen image to be found in the
market-place. The towns, men complied with the insidious suggestion,
but soon had reason to repent of their credulity. As soon as they
commenced the idolatrous ceremony, a violent storm arose, the wind
raised the statue to the height of a thousand cubits in the air, after
which it fell with such violence that it was dissolved by the shock to
powder, and all the men of the place were instantly seized with the
plague and died.

In Antioch itself, sepulchres were wanting for the
numerous bodies
which required burial. It was said that vessels were thrown from on
high upon the earth, filled with vapors, which escaped, and
disseminated everywhere the fatal disorder. The villages and towns in
the neighborhood were deserted by the superstitious peasantry, who
affirmed that evil spirits had been seen traversing the country in the
attire of priests and monks, thus casting discredit on the members of
the sacred order.

Meanwhile, the plague directed its devastating
course eastwards, in
the direction of Amida and Nisibis. Earthquakes prevailed in all parts
of Asia, and, to add to the miseries of the time, the Jews and
Samaritans broke out into rebellion, and massacred great numbers of the
Christians in Palestine. Soon after, the principal cities, of Galilee
and Phoenicia were much injured by earthquakes, and the sea receded for
about two miles from the usual water-mark. Towards the termination of
these troubles, a meteor appeared in the air, shaped like a lance,
which was quickly followed by the death of the Emperor Justinian.107

After this period, the Monophysites seem to have
increased greatly
in numbers, though they were from time to time visited by persecutions.
An Oriental writer relates that, among other grievances, they were
often made to serve as steeds for the Orthodox; and the unfortunate
heretic who possessed the unenviable qualification of broad shoulders
was frequently obliged to groan beneath the weight of a stout and
portly member of the Imperial or Melchite Church. During the seventh
and eighth centuries, we find them aiding the Moslem invaders against
their Greek oppressors, though by so doing they only exchanged one
species of servitude for another. At the commencement of the ninth
century, a Syrian bishop presided over a large congregation in the city
of Baghdad, which had recently been founded by the Caliph Al Mansoor.

During the ninth century, a question was much
agitated between the
Syrian and Egyptian Monophysites concerning the propriety of mixing the
bread of the eucharist with oil and salt, which occasioned, for a time,
the cessation of intercommunion between them. Peace was afterwards
restored, and the Syrians have ever since regarded the Copts and
Abyssinians as brethren. Towards the end of this period, Moses Bar
Cepha was Patriarch of the Jacobites, and published several works which
were highly esteemed by the sect. In his Dissertation on Paradise, he
advanced an opinion still generally received among the Syrians, that
the Garden of Eden, from which Adam was expelled, is still existing,
though invisible, and receives the souls of the just and pious, to
remain there until the day of the resurrection. He was the author of
two liturgies, and wrote commentaries on the Syriac Ritual.

In the tenth century, a Jacobite patriarch, named
John, was led
captive to Constantinople, where he defended the Monophysite doctrine
in the presence of the Greek emperor Nicephorus Phocas, and the
Patriarch Polyeuctes. His description of his reception at the imperial
city is addressed to the Coptic primate Mennas, and contains some
curious particulars, a few of which I shall transcribe.

"The Greek emperor commanded that the patriarch
should send for us,
which order he obeyed, and we waited upon 'him the Thursday before Palm
Sunday, when he received us in the presence of a large body of his
clergy. Before we reached his palace, a number of men met us, who
endeavored by loud outcries to make us afraid. But God, in
consideration of thy acceptable prayers, afforded us both fortitude and
patience.

"After some time, we came to the palace of the
patriarch, which is a
large edifice, surrounded by soldiers and a large crowd of attendants.
When we had saluted him, and be had returned our salutation, he
inquired, I Of what place art thou patriarch?' We answered, 'We are
Bishop of the See of Antioch.'"

After this, some conversation took place respecting
the theological
sentiments of the Jacobites, which John avowed boldly, and without
disguise. He was then allowed to return, but was subsequently sent for
by the emperor, whose proceedings he thus describes:

"He caused us to enter their great church (Sancta
Sophia), and
showed us all the ecclesiastical ornaments, the robes, veils, and
lamps, with the multitudes of people who flocked daily thither,
thinking that we should be moved like children by the sight of these
perishable things. Then, after he had communicated, he began to speak
harshly to us, accusing us of dividing Christ, and urging against us
the saying of Paul, in which he represents one as asserting 'I am of
Cephas, and another I am of Christ.' To which accusations we were
enabled, by God's help, to make a suitable reply.

"On Easter, the emperor again sent for us, and said,
The Moslem and
the Jews continually reproach us with our divisions, and point out how
some are called Melekites, others Jacobites, and others Nestorians.
What, then, is the cause of the schism between you and ourselves? Let
us come together and search the Scriptures for two or three months,
and, having found out truth, let us all follow it.?"

An interview afterwards took place between the
Jacobite and the
Greek patriarchs, in the course of which, the former reproached the
Melekites with holding the opinions of Nestorius, a charge indignantly
denied. The epistle concludes with the expression of the writer's
steadfast determination to maintain firmly the tenets of the
Monophysites, and with a request that he may be aided and supported by
the prayers of Mennas.

At the commencement of the eleventh century, John,
the son of Abdon,
was elected Patriarch of the Jacobites. He was the first who moved the
seat of the patriarchate from Antioch to Malatiah, a city of Armenia.
Before his election, he lived a solitary life on the Black Mountain,
near Antioch, in company with a brother anchorite, who was also named
John. The Patriarch Athanasius had, on his deathbed, designated the son
of Abdon as his successor, which fact, according to his biographer, was
miraculously announced to John in a vision. The modest hermit resolved
to decline the intended dignity, and, addressing his friend, be related
to him what had occurred, and also his determination to conceal himself
from those who were on their way to invest him with rank patriarchal.
But the other, who nourished beneath his hermit's gown a spirit of
worldliness and ambition, resolved to remain, and to accept the
proffered dignity.

The son of Abdon replied, "Iwill not
submit to bear the
burden of worldly honor, nor can I endure to be torn away from this
blessed retreat where I have spent so many happy years. But if thou
deemest that thou canst support this yoke, remain, and take it on
thyself. As for me, I shall seek to conceal myself until this calamity
be overpast."

Having said these words, he fled away, and concealed
himself in
the-recesses of the mountain, leaving his companion to receive the
deputation, who, arriving on the following day, found the other John
awaiting them, and, supposing him to be the person intended, saluted
him patriarch. The ambitious monk gladly accepted the honor, and took
his departure in company with the others. But, as they were journeying
to Antioch, the sun being very oppressive, they reposed for a short
time under a tree, the boughs of which happened to strike the monk on
the eyes, and blinded him. Conscience-stricken, he related what had
passed between him and the son of Abdon, who was immediately sought
for, and installed, against his will, Patriarch of Antioch.

The city of Malatiah, in his day, was a large and
flourishing town,
containing fifty-six churches and about sixty thousand males, among
whom were reckoned a small number of Melekites, who raised great
troubles, and finally succeeded in procuring the imprisonment of the
Jacobite patriarch:. It is now, however, in a semi-ruinous state, owing
to the misgovernment of the Turks.

During the following century, Dionysius Bar Salibi
occupied the
patriarchal throne, a man noted for piety and learning. He composed
several works on theological subjects, among which we find a curious
disquisition on bells, the invention of which he ascribes to Noah. He
mentions that several histories record a command given to that
patriarch to strike on the bell with a piece of wood three times a day,
in order to summon the workmen to their labor while he was building the
ark, and this he seems to consider the origin of church bells, an
opinion which, indeed, is common to other Oriental writers.

We find, in the writings of Bar Salibi, a distinct
admission of the
doctrine of consubstantiation, for he affirms that the body and blood
of Christ in the eucharist were the same that were born of the Blessed
Virgin; and this opinion seems still to be entertained by many of the
later Syrians, although they do not admit the Roman definition of the
change of substance. In another place, he illustrates the union of the
body and blood of the Redeemer to the elements, by the example of the
junction of fire andiron in a red hot bar.

In the thirteenth century, flourished the learned
Gregorius Bar
Hebraeus, a most voluminous writer in Arabic and. Syriac, who obtained
from the Mohammedans the apellation of Abou'1 Farraj, which has been
Latinized into Abulpharagius. He was born in the city of Malatiab, and
his father seems to have been a Jewish convert, from which circumstance
he derived the name of Bar Hebrai, the son of the Hebrew. In A. D.
1243, the Tartars invaded the territory of Malatiah, and laid siege to
the city; but their assault was warded off by the prudence and courage
of the Syrian archbishop, who, assembling the citizens, exhorted them
to take arms, and repel the assailants. In the following year, Bar
Hebraeus repaired to Antioch, where he devoted himself to an ascetic
life. From, thence, after a short time, he went to Tripoli, where he
was ordained priest "and bishop by Ignatius, the Jacobite patriarch. In
A. D. 1264, he was elected to the high dignity of Primate of the East,
which he held for twenty-two years.

The Patriarch of the Jacobites had found it
necessary, in
consequence of the incursions of the Tartars, to fix his abode in
Western Syria, and to delegate the affairs of the East to a
metropolitan, who was termed the maphrian, or primate, and fixed his
chief residence at Mosul. Bar Hebraeus found his new office, however,
full of trouble and anxiety. The ravages of the barbarians had alarmed
and impoverished the people. Great numbers had taken flight, while
those that remained were in daily fear that their property might be
seized, and their towns and villages destroyed. Much mischief, also,
had arisen from the discord between the Nestorians and the Jacobites,
the former frequently making use of their influence with the Caliphs
and the Tartar sovereigns to oppress their co-religionists. By his
prudent and forbearing measures, however, the new maphrian succeeded in
winning the favor of Hulaku Khan, and of his Christian consort, and of
conciliating the esteem of the Nestorian catholicos. When Bar Hebraeus
visited Baghdad, the latter dispatched his nephew, and some of the
principal men of the city, to meet his brother of Mosul, and escort him
into the city of peace. For the first time since the division of the
sects, Nestorians and Jacobites joined together in celebrating the
solemn rites of Easter.

The maphrian returned soon after to Mosul, where,
however, he
remained but a short time, as the condition of his community required
his continual oversight. Indefatigable in his exertions, he passed from
place to place, ordaining bishops and priests, rebuilding ruined
churches, and obtaining from the Tartar monarchs fresh privileges for
his sect. When, at the decease of the patriarch, he was accused of
aspiring to this high station, the maphrian of the East could reply
with pardonable pride that he coveted no higher honor than that which
he already possessed, of enjoying the fruits of a calm and tranquillity
which his own exertions had obtained for his extensive diocese.

In his sixtieth year, this great and excellent man
felt a
presentiment that his last hour was drawing nigh. By the persuasion of
his friends, he had translated his Chronicle, one of the most valuable
works in Oriental literature, from the Syriac into the Arabic language.
Soon after he had finished his labors, he was seized with a fever, for
which he refused to receive medical treatment, saying that he was
sensible that the end of his life was at hand. With the calm composure
of a Christian, he called for his papers, and dictated to his weeping
secretary several important instructions. He then received, the
eucharist, and, charging the survivors to remain in love and charity
with each other, the Maphrian of the East breathed his last.

Mar Jaballaha, the Catholicos of the Nestorians, had
no sooner heard
of his decease than he hastened to pay the last honors to one whose
character, notwithstanding their difference in creed, he could not but
respect and esteem. Nestorians, Armenians,. Greeks, and Jacobites
united in forming the mournful procession which accompanied to the
grave the corpse of the deceased maphrian; a solemn funeral service was
performed by each; and even the Mohammedans paid a decent tribute to
the memory of a man whose writings had enriched the literature of their
country, and handed down to posterity the actions of their most
renowned Caliphs.

The prolific genius of Bar Hebraeus displayed itself
in the various
subjects which he treated. Among his writings, we find treatises on
logic, astronomy, and physics; in grammar, history, poetry, and
theology, he was equally celebrated while the most learned doctors of
Arabia acknowledged that in ethics and the abstruse sciences his dictum
was equal to that of Aristotle himself. The disciples, who bewailed his
departure, spoke of him in terms of affectionate praise as a glorious
and shining lamp, and as the strong and stately pillar which had
hitherto sustained the weak and trembling fabric of Jacobism.

The charity of the deceased maphrian shone no less
brightly than his
intellectual acquirements and his other moral virtues. The friend and
favorite of princes, he delighted to live in a small apartment, where
he was accessible to the meanest of his flock. Money he so much
despised that he distributed to the poor nearly the whole of his annual
income, reserving only so much as was needed for the necessaries of
life. The members of his flock strove, by stealth, to force presents
upon him, and, while kissing his hand, contrived to insert some coins
beneath the mattress of the diwan. The biographer relates, with naive
simplicity, the astonishment of the good bishop when the matting was
raised, and a whole shower of gold or silver pieces poured down upon
the floor. They did not, however, remain there long, but were quickly
transferred to the numerous poor families who waited about the
episcopal portals, many of whom were supported by the benevolence of
Bar Hebraeus. Sometimes, however, the accumulated store amounted to so
large an amount as to cause the bishop no small anxiety respecting the
future disposal of it.

The affairs of the Jacobite community since the
death of Bar
Hebraeus have generally been in a declining state. A long series of
patriarchs might, indeed, be enumerated; yet the account of their
actions could afford little interest, as it would be little more than a
list of ordinations and of disputes, which rarely yield the reader
either entertainment or edification. About the seventeenth century, the
efforts of the Roman missionaries induced many to ally themselves to a
new community, which was entitled the Syrian Catholic Church, and which
has been steadily on the increase ever since. By the aid of the French
political agents, the Syrian Catholics obtained many of the churches,
and carried on an active system of proselytism, which was not always
contented to rely exclusively on the force of argument for success. The
Jacobites affirm that much fraud and cruelty were resorted to for the
purpose of bringing over persons to the new church, and I once saw a
manuscript history in Arabic, which charged the adherents of Rome with
many acts of violence.

The Syrian Catholics, however, are not much altered,
as far as
externals are concerned, from their heretical brethren. Their priests
are still allowed to marry and to use the Syriac language in the divine
service; while their liturgies and offices have undergone a few
trifling emendations. They have consented to receive the Council of
Chalcedon, to admit its canons as a rule of faith, and, what is perhaps
of more importance in the eyes of their Italian instructors, to
acknowledge the supremacy of the Roman pontiff. A Syrian Catholic
prelate, however, still resides at Antioch, who claims the title of
Patriarch of the East.

Besides the divisions above alluded to, it is said
that a large body
of the Jacobite Syrians are desirous of effecting some reformation in
the usages of their church. They generally, however, adhere with
considerable pertinacity to their peculiar dogma of the one nature, and
entertain the most decided aversion towards any change in this
particular. The Jacobites on the coast of India, who are generally
known by the title of Malabar Syrians, receive their bishop from the
Patriarch of Mardin; but it is said that, owing to the dissensions
which have arisen among them, their numbers are rapidly decreasing. The
agents of the Church Missionary Society have, I believe, induced many
to join the Church of England, while others have gone over to the
Romish Syrians, so that it is not improbable that the Indo-Jacobites
may soon become entirely extinct.

With the exception, perhaps, of the Armenians, who
are also
distracted by many divisions, there seem to be strong symptoms of decay
visible in all the Christian systems of the East. They appear to have
lasted the appointed time, and to be rapidly declining in number.
Perhaps the next fifty years may render the names even of the Jacobites
and Nestorians a matter of history; while the descendants of those who
now bear them will be found ranged under the banners of other
communions.108

CHAPTER XXVIII

Departure from Mosul. Halt of a caravan.
Giorgio. Sinjar, and its
ancient associations. Ruins of Dara. The Delli Ali. False alarm. Mode
of escaping from Arabs.

THE period of my residence at Mosul was now fast
drawing to a close,
and I had before me the daily anticipation of leaving a place to which,
notwithstanding the many disadvantages attendant on a European's life
in the East, I still look back with no small amount of regret. The
freedom of social- intercourse, the simple manners, and the unaffected
goodness of heart which distinguish many individuals among the
Orientals, display themselves to advantage when one considers the
artificial polish and hollowness of what is termed civilized life. Yet
it cannot be denied that a person of cultivated mind would often
recall, at certain seasons, the charms of a more educated, social
circle than he could encounter on the banks of the Tigris. Nor can the
magnificent associations, or the splendid traditions of the East supply
the place of a home, or dispel entirely the feeling of loneliness with
which a stranger surveys the foreign crowd around him. I can hardly
tell, therefore, whether, speaking with regard only to mere personal
feelings, I felt more pleased or grieved at leaving a place which,
according to the tales of its inhabitants, formed anciently a part of
Paradise.

When the day of departure arrived, there were many,
who had grown
from mere acquaintances into old friends, to take leave of-with almost
the certainty that we should never meet again. This was, of course, far
from agreeable, nor is the recollection of it less unwelcome; wherefore
I must beg the reader to suppose the last words of farewell spoken, and
ourselves outside the gate of Mosul. We intended to take the shortest
road over the plains of Sinjar to Nisibis, and from thence to travel by
way of Diarbekir, across the flat country of Mesopotamia, to Aleppo.

As the road by the desert was considered unsafe, we
obtained from
the executive of Mosul a cortege of Albanians, who were to escort us
till we had placed ourselves beyond the reach of danger. We had no
Tatar with us, but hired horses to Aleppo from a native of Mosul, and,
as soon as our intention became known, several merchants, who were
traveling the same way, expressed their wish to join us, so that, by
the time we had proceeded for three hours on our way, our numbers had
swelled into a tolerable caravan.

After a ride of fifteen miles, we reached a small
Arab village
called Ak Meidat; but, as the mud huts did not seem very inviting, we
pitched our tent, and prepared to spend the night under its shadow. By
this time, a large number of persons from Mosul had joined our party,
and, as they had also brought tents with them, the plain soon presented
the animated appearance of a military encampment. Numerous fires,
kindled in different parts of the heath, lit up the whole scene, and
displayed to advantage the variously dressed figures which surrounded
them.

Near one of these were assembled our Albanian
escort, whose
richly-laced jackets and buskins sparkled brightly in the glare of the
flame, which lent additional lustre also to their sabres and ornamented
pistol butts. Having few of the scruples entertained by ordinary
Mohammedans, they had brought with them some wine-skins, by the aid of
which they proposed to beguile the drowsy hours of the night.

A group of sober, staid Moslems, not far from them,
regarded with
looks, in which dislike was mingled with fear, the unlawful proceedings
of those whom in confidence they would doubtless have stigmatized as
semi-Kafirs and Fermasoon.109
They themselves were imbibing the more sober beverage of coffee, and
smoking their chibouques, speaking little, but appearing to be engaged
in profound meditation over their pipes. Others were busy in preparing
their provisions for a night repast, while some were attending to their
steeds, and getting their baggage ready for the next day's march.

As the evening drew on, a band of musicians, who had
arrived from
Mosul, began to play in the midst of the encampment, while three of the
Albanians danced the Romaika with great spirit. The attitudes of this
celebrated dance struck me as awkward and inelegant; but there was a
wild savage air about it which agreed tolerably with the appearance-and
apparel of the performers. An old man with a cracked voice began to
sing a very nasal ditty about the chains and torments of love; but the
sentiments, however naturally poetical they might be in the abstract,
derived little embellishment from the manner in which they were set
forth. A musical Albanian nearly excited a quarrel, in his attempt to
possess himself of one of the singer's guitars, but a few paras
arranged matters, and he was allowed the loan of the instrument. He
seated himself on the grass, with a circle of his companions around
him, and with a fearful grimace, which was evidently an attempt to look
interesting and sentimental, he shouted forth a ditty, the refrain of
which greatly resembled in sound the syllables bow wow. I was told,
however, that it was a very romantic lament, poured forth by a
despairing swain to some iron-hearted beauty, who was eventually so
overcome by it that she bestowed on the singer her hand and heart. The
rude mercenaries seemed much affected by it, perhaps because it
reminded them of their distant mountain land.

We were accompanied from Mosul by a Greek servant,
who had, for the
last three or four years, been residing with Mr. Rassam. Giorgio, in
that time, had grown somewhat tired of " the barbarians," as his
ancestors would have called them, and as he thought them in his inmost
soul. In theological matters, however, his liberality might have
edified those enlightened persons in the nineteenth century who make it
a point of conscience to commend and speak well of every form of
religion except their own. On great festivals, he was always to be seen
holding a very large candle in the Chaldean and Syrian processions.
Like a true Greek, however, he maintained the superiority of the
Melchite Church to all other communions, and considered the Pope of
Rome as unworthy to bear the slippers of the Patriarch of
Constantinople. But Giorgio's chief delight was to talk of the exploits
of his father in the Greek war, where he had been a very Achilles to
the infidels. At first, indeed, I could hardly understand these
narratives, which he poured into my very willing ears as we rode side
by side over some dull, uninteresting level, but at length I managed to
pick up some words of Italian, by the aid of which, and a shrewd guess
now and then at the meaning of a modern Greek phrase, we contrived to
get on very well together.

Giorgio told me his father was a respectable farmer
in Attica, who,
after his belligerent doings, had taken a second spouse, a comely widow
from Scio; but she proved such an ill. stepmother, that the son, who
inherited all the paternal spirit, was glad to quit his father's house,
and go off to Constantinople: In the metropolis, he engaged in the
service of some Franks; but rarely stayed very long in one place, for,
like Ulysses, he was fond of seeing the world. After many
misadventures, he entered the employ of Mr. Rassam, with whom he had
traveled for some months in Asia Minor; and eventually accompanied him
to Mosul. During his wandering and adventurous life, he had picked up
many accomplishments-which were both useful and ornamental. He was a
very good cook, a tolerable groom; he could make and mend clothes, play
and sing a little, and dance the Romaika. He spoke Greek, Turkish,
Italian, and broken English. Few better understood how to deal with the
true believers, whose dignity he astonished sometimes by a lash from
his whip. Perhaps no one could be more suited for our purpose, and all
of us agreed, when the journey was over, that we had derived more
assistance from Giorgio than we should have gained front twenty Tatars.

But the dawn is now breaking, and the whole
encampment are rousing
themselves from the slumbers which succeeded their revelry. The baggage
horses have been laden, the tents struck, and the whole of the
cavalcade is once more en route. A red glow illuminates the
distant summits of the Kurdish Mountains and of Jebel Makloub. Behind
us are the-minarets of Mosul; while around, on every side, extend the
plains of Sinjar, terminated to the eastward by the Tigris.

Near Ak Meidat, we crossed a stone bridge with two
arches, built
over a rivulet whose brackish waters are said to produce great numbers
of fish. Under one of these arches, we noticed a trap or net set for
catching crabs, with which the stream abounded.

In two hours and a half, we arrived at Hegnah, a
small tell or mound
surmounted by a ruined castle, on the gate of which was an inscription
in Arabic, stating that it had been rebuilt in the year of the Hegira
1212. We halted for the clay at the foot of the tell, near which was a
pool of brackish water, plentifully stocked with frogs. Several of
these unpleasant reptiles crawled into our tent, where they sat for
some minutes staring at the strangers, and then disappeared to join
their comrades in a croaking chorus, which interrupted my intended
mid-day siesta.

From Hegnah we rode on to Aiwainat, another mound
situated at the
edge of a large plain, which presented a very gay appearance, being
covered with the tents of the soldiers, who had gone forth to meet and
welcome the new pasha. Report seemed to augur favorably of his
character. Although not exactly one of the reforming school, it was
said that Shereef Pasha was a man of humane and merciful disposition,
strictly just and upright in his dealings; in short, a very fair
specimen of an Osmanli ruler.

There were several troops of irregulars who
accompanied the Nizam
Djedeed, and I could not help contrasting their gay and showy
exteriors. with the wretched Frank uniforms of the new regiments, who
seemed to feel themselves shackled. and fettered by their jackets and
pantaloons. They none of them wore any stockings; and those who were
not actually on duty wandered about in a loose unbuttoned state, which
might be comfortable, but which did not exactly respond to our ideas of
propriety. The poor fellows seemed to feel themselves in a most uneasy
situation, and evidently were at a loss how to manage their new
clothes.

On one occasion, I met at the table of Mr. Rassam
the Kaimakam of
Mosul, a stout swarthy Kurd, who, as a government official, had been
doomed to submit to the rigors of the Frank costume. When he sat down
to dinner, however, old habits suddenly assumed the predominance; with
much difficulty, he stripped up his sleeves as far as the elbow, and
began to demolish the eatables with his fingers. The poor man, however,
appeared so stiff and uncomfortable that I could not help wishing him
safely returned to his jibba and zeboon.

From Aiwanat we had a long and tedious ride of
twelve hours to
Rumaleh. The roads were very muddy, as rain had fallen on the preceding
day. The latter part of the march also was in darkness, and the sudden
sinking of our horses, every now and then, in some bog or quagmire was
the reverse of agreeable.

The nature of the surrounding country was little
adapted to relieve
the tedium of a caravan march. The flats were indeed varied by slight
excrescences here and there, and sometimes by mounds of a larger size;
but there was little to attract attention or to call off the mind from
the dull monotonous tramp of the hired horses. I longed for a gallop,
but our steeds were not accustomed to quick movements, and, as we had a
long journey before us, it was necessary to husband their strength.
When we arrived at Rumaleh, I felt quite exhausted, and, hastily
dismounting, I wrapped my cloak round me, and fell asleep on the grass.

The next morning we pitched our tent at the foot of
a small
eminence, and determined to await the arrival of the pasha, who was
expected to reach Rumaleh at nine o'clock A. M. Before he came,
however, the Diwan Effendi, whom we found also at Rumaleh, sent to
borrow a bottle of brandy, as he felt slightly indisposed. The bottle
was sent, and returned the next morning empty; but I believe the
invalid made B---- some small present as an acknowledgment of the
kindness.

Drums and trumpets sounded merrily as the pasha
approached the tell
with his escort. The whole plain was covered with horsemen galloping to
and fro, and discharging their firearms in the air. Shouts and
acclamations resounded on all sides, as the pasha dismounted, and
entered the tent which had been prepared for his reception. Soon after
his arrival, B and I went to drink coffee with him, and were much
pleased with the politeness and affability of his manners. Yet the
appearance of an Eastern ruler is sometimes deceptive in the extreme. I
once went, at Constantinople to visit a chieftain whose name has been
associated with many a deed of blood and crime. We found a venerable
man with a long snowy beard, which gave him a most paternal and
patriarchal aspect. Nothing could be milder, more pious, or more
resigned than his conversation. He described himself as the victim of
undeserved calumny and persecution, and spoke of his enemies with the
calm forgiveness with which a good man regards those who have injured
him. His devout resignation to the will of Heaven was most edifying,
and few that looked upon that venerable countenance, or watched the
repose of that aged eye, could believe that there had been a time when
both were lit up by the fiercest passions which can agitate the bosom
of man.

From Rumaleh we proceeded to Aznaoor, a Kurdish
village in the
territory of Bedr Khan Bey, where we pitched our tents under the shade
of some trees. From thence we rode on, in the evening, to Geri Zaina, a
small village containing four families of Syrian Christians. It had
formerly been a place of some size, but, like other towns and villages
in these parts, was now reduced to a few miserable huts.

We had just been traversing the northern part of the
plains of
Shinar, on which; if the hypothesis advocated in a former chapter be
correct, was situated the ancient Babel, mentioned in the early part of
the Book of Genesis. The kingdom of Shinar is first spoken of in
Genesis xiv., where an expedition is recorded, in which its monarch
seems to have borne a considerable share. In company with Chedorlaomer
King of Elam, Arioch King of Ellasar, and Tidal King of Nations, he is
described as making war against the kings or chiefs of Canaan. I am
disposed to identify Ellasar with the modern Tell-Afer, mentioned by
Mr. Layard as situated three hours' ride from Mosul.110 Elam seems to imply the
kingdom of Persia, while the Nations may have been different scattered
tribes lately united under one head.

The races dwelling in northern Mesopotamia seem to
have acquired, at
an early period, the appellation of Chasdim, though some circumstances
would lead us to imagine that it was not generally adopted till after
the birth of Abraham. Their dominion extended to the Euphrates, if we
admit the identity of Urfah with the ancient Ur. At the time of the
expedition alluded to in Scripture, they seem to have advanced into the
northern parts of Syria, as the Karnak Tablet mentions the Khita, a
people whom Mr. Birch successfully identifies with the Chaldeans, as
seated at Helbon, the modern Aleppo. A very current tradition prevalent
in the East derives the appellation of Haleb, or Aleppo, which
signifies "he milked," from the supposition that Abraham tarried here
to milk his cows, while on his way to Palestine. He, therefore, most
probably journeyed by the same route which a modern traveler would
take, passing through Aleppo, and repairing thence by way of Heins to
Damascus.

It remains an open question how far the chiefs of
Shinar were
independent of the power. of Elam, as the people of Canaan
are mentioned in Genesis as tributaries of the latter country. Yet it
is not certain that Elam implies Persia, or, at least, the whole of it.
It seems more to refer to the regions eastward of -the Kurdish
Mountains. Elam was the brother of Asshur, and, therefore, there
appears to be a close connection between the Elamites and the early
Assyrians, whose territories were probably contiguous. If so, this
seems to bear strongly upon the fact of the northern position of
Shinar, and corroborates the hypothesis respecting Babel.

During the captivity of the children of Israel in
Egypt, the kings
of that country appear to have come in collision with the Chaldeans of
Shinar and the inhabitants of Central Asia. To this period I should
feel disposed to refer the events recorded in the Karnak Tablet. A
confederation seems to have taken place among the Mesopotamian and
Assyrian chiefs. The members of this alliance are given as follows:111--

ARUTA [Ararah],

AR-HENA [Iran],

TEN-TEN-I [Tanais],

KARAKMASHA [Carchemish],

RUKA [Ragae Media],

KESH-KESH [Caucasus],

CHIRUBU [Chalybes Aleppo].

We find here a number of nations mentioned, the
general position of
which corresponds remarkably with the localities alluded to in Genesis.
The Aruta were the people inhabiting the vicinity of those mountains
called, in modern times, Jebel Judi; and were, doubtless, the same as
those whose monarch is alluded to in Scripture as the King of Shinar.
We find, in the inscription, Arhena and Ruka, which agree with the Elam
of Genesis, while the Scythians of Ten-ten-i and of Kesh-kesh may be
represented by the Goyim, or nation of which Tidal is mentioned as the
chief or sovereign.

The Tablet goes on to commemorate the exploits of
the Egyptian
sovereigns against these people of northern Naharaina (Mesopotamia).
Rameses II marches into their country, and subdues "the wretched chief
of the Khita (Chaldeans) and the numerous bands that are with him,
Arutu, the Maasu, the Shasu, the Kesh-kesh, the Ar-hena, the Katuata,
with the Chirubu, the Ati, and the Ruka." Another expedition is then
recorded against "the Ruten--northern lands behind the great sea." We
find in this account the following list of captives:--

Khita (who are properly the Chasdim, or Chaldeans,
which seems to
have been, at an early period, a generic appellation for the
inhabitants of northern Mesopotamia and Assyria).

Naharaina (Mesopotamia Proper).

Upper Ruten (Mr. Birch conjectures that these were
the
Cappadocians).

Lower Ruten. (Probably the Upper Ruten may have
designated the
mountaineers of the Taurus, and the Lower, the inhabitants of the
plains at the foot of that range.)

Saen-Kara (Singara, or Sinjar), the Shinar of
Genesis x.

The northern position of Shinar seems here
established, though,
perhaps, in after ages, the same appellation might be applied to
regions farther south.112

Mention is made also of the capture of a fort, or a
fortified city,
entitled Atesh, or Atet, which is described in the Tablet as 11
situated on a circular island, in the centre of a large river, flanked
by two bridges." It lay close to the Ruten (Cappadocians) and the Luden
(Lydians), and seems to have been in the vicinity of Saen Kara, or
Sinjar. It was garrisoned by a Chaldean people, and was not distant
from the Chaboras. Mr. Birch considers this Fort Haditba, on the east
bank of the Euphrates; but, though I am sorry to differ from so eminent
an authority on the subject of antiquities, I should, with all due
submission, suggest, whether the insular position of the fort does not
correspond remarkably with the site of the modern Jezirah, which is
surrounded by two arms of the Tigris, and is close to Mesopotamia,
Sinjar, and Cappadocia. Many other considerations concur in rendering
this view probable. In the vicinity of Jezirah flows the modern Habor,
or Khabour, which is nearly identical with the word Chaboras, or
Khaboras, found in the Tablet.113
The position of this insular town must have been in the heart of the
regions occupied by the confederates-a circumstance which rendered its
capture of signal importance to the Egyptians. Mention is made of the
drugs of Atesh, or Atet, which might refer to the gall nuts still to be
found in great quantities in the neighboring mountains.

From all these considerations, it seems probable
that the Shinar of
Genesis, and the Saen Kara of the Tablet, are identical, and that the
Chasdim, or Chaldeans, occupied the plain of Sinjar, and the northern
parts of Mesopotamia. Nor should I consider it unlikely that the
numerous tells, or mounds, which I have lately described, might, if
excavated, be found to conceal more ancient remains even than those
discovered in the plains of Nineveh. There can be little doubt that
they are not natural excrescences, but accumulations of rubbish,
covered, in process of time, with verdure--a description, indeed, that
will apply to most of the small mounds in the vicinity of Mosul. The
future enterprise of some industrious investigator may yet' bring to
light more astonishing relics of the past than have hitherto been
disclosed to the gaze of the curious; and the ancient history of
Central Asia may become as familiar to our minds as that of Greece and
Rome.

From Geri Zaina we proceeded to Nisibin, where we
pitched our tent
near the mausoleum of Mar Yacoub. Soon after our arrival here, a band
of wandering musicians made their appearance, and desired leave to
exhibit their talents. before us. The company consisted of
four men and two boys, whom we had taken, at a distance, for females,
from the nature of their attire. 'their long black hair was braided,
and adorned with strings of coins; and they wore long red petticoats,
which reached as far as the ankle, and were made like the under dresses
of the Oriental women. They carried tambourines in their hands, which
they beat from time to time during the dance. Their movements were the
most ungraceful and unmeaning I ever witnessed, being nothing but a
series of contortions, resembling the wriggling motion of a snake.

The men encouraged their exertions by the sound of
their guitars,
and the strains which one of the number poured forth showed more zeal
than ability. As the music continued, however, the enthusiasm of the
performers increased. The, boys leaped wildly from side to side, their
cheeks glowing to a degree that eclipsed the redness of the paint with
which they were plastered. All the musicians joined in chorus, and
produced, finally, yells of an awful and unearthly character. At last,
wearied with their labors, they suddenly ceased, and, having received a
small gratuity, departed to take a little repose. These people belonged
to a tribe called the Delli Ali, a community which furnishes half the
East with jugglers and mountebanks. They wander about from town to
town, exhibiting their tricks, and sometimes perform in the houses of
the respectable Mohammedans. I was informed that they were not
celebrated for morality, and were generally reputed to be great thieves
whenever opportunities occurred of stealing with safety.

About fifteen miles from Nisibis are the ruins of
Dara, which are
situated between Nisibin and Marlin, at the distance of nearly a mile
and a half from the road. Being desirous of inspecting them, we left
our companions to go on the direct route, while we turned aside to see
Dara. At our right was a low range of hills, which seem, in ancient
times, to have been included under the appellation of Mount Masius;
though the eminence which generally bears that name at present is
farther to the north.

As we rode along, a Turkish aga and his two servants
joined us. He
had a residence and some landed property near Dara, and was what we
should call a country gentleman. People of this class in Turkey very
seldom 'mix themselves up in politics, or seek after -official
distinction. They remain at home in their paternal mansions, surrounded
by their dependents, to whom they extend a rude but ungrudging
hospitality, and by whom they are in general beloved and respected.

It is singular that in these parts one rarely finds
a man of good
descent among the governors. Most of the latter have risen from the
dregs of the people, or are the offspring of slaves. Some can neither
read nor write; nor does their ignorance seem, in any way, to affect
their position. The agas form the sound portion of the Ottoman
dominions; but their numbers are greatly diminishing, as their property
becomes much depreciated in value by the tyranny of the pashas and
mutsellims, who drive the poor people to despair by their exactions,
and thus induce them to forsake their villages, and to abstain from
cultivating the soil.

The aga we met appeared to be a sensible man, and
better informed
than most of his class. He had made several journeys to Constantinople;
but he said he always returned with greater zest to his paternal
domains. He admitted the tyranny of the pashas, and observed that
oppression was, to use his own metaphor, eating up the land.

On arriving at Dara, we found the ruins situated on
the slope of a
hill, the summit of which was occupied by a few mud huts, inhabited
chiefly by Armenian Christians, who possessed here a church and a
priest. The remains were so extensive as to assume, at a distance, the
appearance of a town; and we were particularly struck by the perfect
condition of a tower, or minaret, which resembled very much the steeple
and belfry of a church.

We pitched our tent at the foot of the hill, and,
having taken some
refreshment, went on an exploring expedition among the ruins. Not far
from the site we occupied was a small rivulet, on the bank of which we
discovered the remains of an ancient wall. The stones were very
massive, measuring at least twelve feet by eight. We began to examine
the ruins which lay towards the north-east, and found several buildings
in an imperfect state, one or two only of the rooms remaining. The
walls abounded with inscriptions. We found about ten tanks of stone
filled with water. Each tank was contained in a large apartment,
covered by a roof, and having the light admitted through a square
aperture. The well-joined masses of stonework excited our admiration,
and accounted for the durability of these buildings.

In the opposite direction, we found the remains of
several quarries,
which had probably supplied the stone for the old city. We proceeded
through two galleries, or passages, and examined the caves which were
cut in the stony soil on each side. Many of these had been used as
tombs, but were now inhabited by the peasantry and their families, who
tilled the neighboring lands. We noticed several bas-reliefs over the
entrances to these sepulchral grots. One was the emblem of the cross,
surrounded by a wreath of cypress; another, a collection of skulls and
bones, over which winged figures were hovering. The borders of the
arched semicircles over each aperture were richly carved in the form of
wreaths. One of the cells contained a fine sarcophagus of marble,
nearly half of which was buried in the earth. Another was shaped like a
pyramid, and seemed to have been divided into various compartments.

We next descended a flight of fifty-six stairs,
which conducted us
to a subterranean hall, supported by pillars, still retaining the marks
of the staples to which chains had been attached. Several passages were
connected with this apartment, leading to the ruins of an ancient
castle, of which this place had probably been the dungeon. A small,
round opening in the roof let in a faint glimmer of-light;
but. the obscurity was so great that we were obliged to bring torches
with us.

After a lengthy examination of these remains, we
returned to our
tent, and were soon visited by a crowd of villagers, who were anxious
to dispose of coins. They told us that, in turning over the ground,
they often found "anteeka," a term learned from the Franks, and applied
to every species of the relies of ancient days. Among those they showed
us, were several coins of the Lower Empire of the Macedonians and of
the Parthians. Many were merely covered with Kufic inscriptions,
without any figure. The peasants were willing to dispose of their
discoveries at a very cheap rate, and, from what they said, it seemed
that they would have little objection to the visit of some one who
might make excavations on the site of Dara. From the general appearance
of the place; it appears likely to repay the exertions of some
enterprising antiquarian, whose private means would enable him to
commence operations without indulging the vain hope of assistance or
reward from a government which will be too happy to reap the fruit of
labors which have cost it nothing.

According to Zacharias of Malatia, Dara was
fortified by the orders
of the Emperor Anastasius, to serve as a frontier garrison against the
Persians. Assemani, in quoting the above-mentioned writer, seems to
infer that it was then founded for the first time; yet it is likely
that his expressions refer to the construction of a new town from the
ruins of an older city. In the year 573 of the Christian era, it was
besieged by the Persians, under Chosroes, and again by the Arabs in A.
D. 641. It was finally deserted and left to fall to decay towards the
close of the eighth century.

We proceeded from the ruins to Mardin, a ride of
about five hours,
where we were kindly received by our old host Murad. He was still
enjoying the sunshine of the governor's favor, though no one was more
aware of its uncertain and precarious character.

We mounted with some difficulty to the citadel,
which was situated
on the top of the mountain, and commanded a magnificent prospect over
the widely-extended plains of Mesopotamia. After visiting the pasha, we
repaired to the quarters of the colonel of the Albanians to drink
coffee. He `received us in a small room lined with diwans: on the
walls; we noticed several pairs of handcuffs, and some fetters
suspended. The' colonel was a liberal Mohammedan, and expressed a
strong desire for a bottle of brandy, but did not succeed in obtaining
his wish. He conducted us over the citadel, where we observed several
pieces of cannon quietly rusting away.

At Mardin, we waited for the arrival of the caravan,
which entered
the town some hours after us.--Kas Botros and Michael had accompanied
it, and complained very much of the conduct of the head man, who had
tried to impose upon them. As, however, he was much terrified at the
prospect of a complaint to the pasha, he promised good behavior for the
rest of the journey, and we allowed him another trial.

During our journey from Mardin to Diarbekir, we
received the
intelligence that a band of mounted robbers were in pursuit of us, and
were lurking on the other side of a low range of hills which skirted
the road to the right. This piece of information caused us to halt, and
prepare for the onset of the marauders, as our horses would have been
of little service in the event of a flight. Giorgio, who was in his
element, took the command of the surredjees and other attendants, by
whose aid he constructed with the baggage a species of barricade,
behind which we were to shelter ourselves and discharge our firearms.

The crisis was felt to be momentous. A fat merchant
of Mosul
crouched in agonies of terror behind a heap of saddlebags, while his
trusty sabre, which he had displayed before with no small amount of
ostentation, lay unsheathed beside him. One of our Christian servants
was invoking the aid of the Virgin and Saints, while a black dependent
observed that, if we were fated to have our throats cut, no efforts of
ours could avert it. This assurance was not very satisfactory or
consolatory; but we determined to do our best, and, loading our guns
and pistols, we looked very determined and warlike behind our defences,
while Giorgio, who volunteered to reconnoitre, mounted his horse and
galloped up the hill before us.

We watched his movements with some anxiety,
expecting, at each
moment, to see the white smoke of the enemy's guns rising above the
summit of the eminence. Giorgio galloped along the broad ridge of the
hill, and then disappeared on the other side. After a quarter of an
hour, we again discerned him riding leisurely towards us: he brought
the intelligence that no robbers were in the neighborhood, and that all
our warlike preparations were in vain.

This announcement reassured those of the party who
had been looking
forward with no slight tremor to the probable conflict. The stout
merchant, in the heat of his enthusiasm, mounted his steed, and,
flourishing his sabre, rode to the foot of the mountain, but was
suddenly brought back by a shot which Giorgio fired in that direction.
Those who had been most terrified handled their sabres and pistols, and
boasted of the feats of valor which they would have performed.

It seems strange to recall now the sensation which I
experienced
when news was brought that no attack was to take place; I confess I
felt somewhat disappointed, although I am not fond of fighting, and
would at any time, in the language of Shakspeare, "Walk rather with Sir
Priest than Sir Knight." Yet there seems to be something stirring and
exciting m the prospect of a fray, which kindles the warm, blood in our
veins, and makes us feel that, as far as the animal instinct is
concerned, we are all lovers of strife. Philosophy may soften and
religion tame these impulses; but they exist in the breast of every
child of Adam, and are liable to be only too easily called into action.

On one occasion, two travelers were traversing a
dangerous part of
the wild country on the borders of Persia. One of them held tenets most
averse to warlike proceedings of any kind, and averred that it was not
lawful, even in self defence, to take any measure which would endanger
human life. The other endeavored to rebut his companion's arguments,
and convince him of the futility of his reasoning; but he failed in
producing any impression on his friend's mind. While they were engaged
in conversation, one of the attendants who had been dispatched on
before made his appearance, galloping hard, and breathless with haste
and fear. He informed the travelers that eight mounted Kurds were
advancing, who had fired at him as he rode on, and who were in fact
close at his heels. The man of peace seemed somewhat disconcerted, but
when the clattering of the Kurds' horses was heard, his hand stole
towards his holsters, from which he extracted two well-polished
pistols; and when the attack was made he signalized himself by the
valor with which he joined in beating off the assailants.

We proceeded on our way in safety, and met with no
further
interruption from the sons of Ishmael, or the equally marauding Kurds.
When we were in sight of Diarbekir, an individual of our party, who had
hitherto maintained the most profound silence, gave me the following
recipe for obtaining the protection of the Arabs, which for its
originality I deem worthy of insertion here. "If you are at anytime
attacked by these sons of dogs," said my instructor, " do not resist,
for, if you lift sword or gun against them, they will slay you without
mercy. Endeavor to touch them, and, if you succeed, you are safe; but,
if you are unable to do this, spit at them."

"And get my throat cut to a certainty," continued I.

"No, on my head," he replied, "you may save your
life; for, if
anything that proceeds from you, even saliva, touches their person or
clothes, it is as though you touched them, and you have then a sacred
and imperative claim upon their hospitality. I am telling you no
falsehood; for a brother of mine, who did this, escaped out of their
hands, and is still living at Baghdad."

CHAPTER XXIX

THE approach to Diarbekir from the direction of
Mosul presented some
scenes which, though without pretensions to sublime beauty, possessed
interest enough to attract the attention of a weary traveler. It was
spring-time, and the flat plains were covered with verdure, while
occasionally we crossed some winding rivulet, or, ascending the brow of
a rocky eminence, obtained an extensive survey of the country around.
The road we now took was different from that by which, on a former
occasion, we had left Diarbekir, and presented more objects of interest
to the eye. As we drew near the gate, our route lay between two rows of
gardens, from whose blossoming flowers a sweet and agreeable odor
diffused itself through the heated atmosphere.

We traversed, on entering, the best and least
ruinous quarter of
Diarbekir, which even seemed to improve on acquaintance. The houses on
each side of us were built of black stone, resembling the material used
in the construction of the wall; while they possessed the luxury of
glass windows, which had lately been somewhat of a rarity in our eyes
during our late sojourn in Mosul. In my own dwelling at the latter
place, I had been obliged to fill up the apertures with oiled
paper--which, however, answered the purpose for which I used it
remarkably well.

We took up our quarters at the house of Khowajah
Bidoush, a Chaldean
merchant well known to Mr. Rassam, who received us with great kindness
and hospitality. A large room, well carpeted, and filled with handsome
diwans, was placed at our disposal, with two sleeping apartments for my
friend and myself.

The next day after our arrival, we visited another
Chaldean
gentleman, whom we had seen before at Mosul, and were introduced to his
wife and mother-in-law; The former was very youthful in her appearance,
and seemed shy and timid; but her mother was extremely lively and
talkative. Notwithstanding that most Eastern women seem to grow old
prematurely, this lady did not appear much more than twenty-eight. Her
manners were as polished and cultivated as any of her sex and station
in Europe; nor did there seem any want of what some people call
civilization, which, after all, is little better than a species of
conventional hypocrisy. Both the ladies were richly attired, and wore a
kind of round silver head-piece, bound round with folds of muslin.
Their jackets were trimmed with gold lace, and rich shawls surrounded
their waists. Their nails were stained with henna, a most odious custom
in the eyes of a European, since it always seems as though the lady had
just been digging up the ground with her fingers, and had retained
about them some of the mould. Nor did the nose jewel appear a more
appropriate ornament, though its antiquity pleads somewhat in its
favor. I remember bearing, on one occasion, that a Frank was asked by
some pasha or governor whether Europeans put rings in the noses of
their women, to which the reply was, greatly to his excellency's
astonishment without doubt, "No, but we sometimes insert them in the
snouts of our pigs."

We visited the principal Chaldean church. It was
comparatively new,
having been built only ten years, through French aid and influence I
believe, as the erection of Christian edifices is forbidden by
Mohammedan law. There were four aisles, and a number of altars richly,
decorated. I noticed also a vast profusion of silver lamps, censers,
and other utensils used in the Chaldean service, which were made of the
most costly materials. The pictures bad been brought from Paris and
Rome; but they were not distinguished by any particular merit in the
execution.

From the church, we went to call upon Monsignore
Pietro, the
Chaldean, Archbishop of Diarbekir, who no longer retains the title of
patriarch. He was a good-looking man, about forty years of age, and had
received his education at the Propaganda, where he remained for eleven
years. He spoke Italian fluently, and possessed a very fair library for
the East, which comprised some well-written manuscripts, relating
exclusively to ecclesiastical matters. He seemed to approve of the
Roman interference, as tending to improve and civilize the East.

We then repaired to the Armenians, who have also a
handsome church
in this place. We found them, as usual, ill acquainted with the English
Church, and perpetually confounding us with the American Dissenters, of
whom they expressed a hearty dislike. They said, "Why do these people
come here to overturn our old churches and to alter our customs, which
we have maintained since the days of the apostles? We do not deny them
the title of Christian, nor do we wish to meddle with their way of
serving God. It may do for them; but we prefer to hold by the ancient
customs and the writings of the Holy Fathers. We do not send
missionaries to America, though perhaps we may think they need them."

We saw at the Syrian church Mar Athanasius, a
Jacobite prelate, who
had spent eleven months in London and at Cambridge. He spoke in high
terms of England and her church, and appeared to feel and appreciate
the kindness which he had received from many of the English clergy, and
particularly from the Bishop of London, whose name is known and
respected by many of the Oriental Christians. I have often thought that
the foundation of a scholarship, at one of our universities, for young
Oriental Christians, would tend greatly to benefit these Eastern
communities. A few young men, educated properly, and sent back to
labor, without any sectarian end, for the good of their countrymen, and
to diffuse among them secular and religious knowledge, might effect
much for the, East. It is painful, however, to be obliged to observe
that many well-meaning persons have done much mischief to some of the
Easterns who have visited this country, by making lions of them, and
thus encouraging habits of pride and self-conceit, which have marred
considerably their after usefulness.

A friend of mine once received an invitation to a
party where a
Syrian prince was expected to be present. As he was well acquainted
with the East, he was somewhat surprised at this announcement, and
still more so when, on entering the room, he discovered in his Syrian
highness an old retainer, who had frequently, in clays of yore,
polished his shoes and brushed his coat.

Bishop Athanasius, however, had not been spoiled by
his visit to our
shores. He had a frank open manner about him which was very pleasing,
and he seemed really anxious to promote in every way the welfare of his
countrymen. He informed us that the Christians were much oppressed in
Diarbekir, as they were obliged to wear dresses of a particular color,
and were forbidden to ride on horseback. We experienced the truth of
his remarks as to the disesteem in which Christians were held, on our
return to our quarters. Three or four Mussulman boys shouted after us
"Kafir," and even threw a few stones; but we soon dispersed them by a
few strokes from our riding-whips.

When we reached home, we found the Italian doctor of
the quarantine
department waiting for our return. He informed us that a cordon had
been drawn round Diarbekir, but that we should no doubt be able to
obtain permission to proceed on our way. We did so, in fact, and felt
at the same time the folly of the whole affair, and the inconveniences
of which it was no doubt productive to the poorer people. No one
acquainted with Turkey could imagine for an instant that those who
possessed money enough to bribe the officials would not be passed
through immediately, even if they came from the most plague-stricken
region; while the poor gardener or agriculturist, who depended on the
city markets for subsistence, was excluded without mercy.

The doctor seemed very ignorant of medicine, though
be professed to
have studied it at an Italian university. Half of his brethren,
however, in Turkey, might be numbered under the same category. These
Sangrados certainly do- as much as in them lies to diminish the number
of the Sultan's subjects, in return for the money which they extract
from Turkish pockets. With regard to the latter particular, however,
our medical acquaintance complained that he rarely got his fees, as his
patients, though profuse in promises when they were sick, forgot them
as soon as they became convalescent.

An Armenian dragoman, who accompanied the doctor,
was exceedingly
anxious to enter my service, as he complained that he could not get any
pay from his present employer.

"Do you also practice physic?" I inquired.

"Sometimes, signore," replied this Oriental Gil
Blas. "I have picked
up some knowledge of medical treatment from my master's books, and from
his performances. I seldom meddle, indeed, with the signori, as that
would be improper and a rivalry with my most illustrious master; but I
attend to the peasants and the humbler classer, who, poor people, are
very grateful, and reward my services with rice, fruit, and sometimes a
fowl."

"Do your patients ever die?" I inquired.

"But seldom, signore," replied the fellow, with a
grin; "and, when
they do, I assure you it is no fault of mine. I follow strictly the
prescribed rules of the profession. Eccollo! here is my lancet!"
drawing forth a rusty old blade, which might have pricked the veins of
Methusaleh. "With this I have saved many lives. Your excellency seems
of a full habit; would you make proof of my skill?"

"Grazia, no," I replied; "I never call in a medico
except when
obliged, and at present I do not require your assistance. But what else
can you do?"

"What can I not do?" he answered. "I can speak eight
languages, and
write six. I can ride, attend to a horse, cook a dinner, and make
European clothes. I am a most discreet person, and never betray
secrets. I eat and sleep little, and never require much pay."

"Verily, you are a universal genius," I said but at
present I have
no occasion for such a treasure. Here are a few piastres to assist your
medical studies."

The doctor rose to take leave, and his worthy
assistant, with many
bows and expressions of gratitude, speedily followed in his train.

In the afternoon, we went to pay our respects to the
pasha, whom we
found in an apartment of the citadel; which seemed to be used as an
armory. His excellency was an Albanian by birth, and had risen from the
ranks to his present station. He was very polite and obliging, making
no difficulty what ever respecting our, proposed infringement of the
quarantine laws. The pipes brought us were very superbly mounted, and
were about six feet in length. On leaving the pasha, we rambled,
through the gardens of the Serail, which were tastefully laid out, and
overlooked the Tigris. On the opposite bank were several coffee-houses,
surrounded by gardens, under the trees of which we discerned several
parties making kaif, while the strains of music issued from different
parts. From the top of the citadel we had a good view of the town, and
counted the minarets of eleven mosques, besides the domes of
innumerable mesjids or chapels.

As we proceeded through the streets, we noticed
several of the
remains of the ancient Amida, some of which had been inserted in the
walls of the modern houses. Here and there, the capital of a Doric
column was used as a horse block; while a tablet, with a Greek
inscription half erased, made its appearance under the sill of a modern
Turkish window.

We visited a large building, or rather the remains
of one, which
still retains the name of Djameh El Kabeer, the great mosque, and was
probably the cathedral of Christian Amida. The eastern and western
walls were still in a tolerable state of preservation, while those to
the north and south had been disfigured by Saracenic additions. The
eastern wall bad a large arched recess in the centre, which had
probably formed originally the apse behind the altar where the bishop
and his clergy usually sat. The northern wall was covered with Arabic
inscriptions, and joined on to a mosque. The area of the Djameh was
used as a market, and was covered with stalls. At the door of the
mosque, we perceived the corpse of a man lying on a species of bier,
upon whose breast was a wooden platter filled with the alms of the
charitable passersby, who contributed in this manner to the expenses of
the funeral.

When we returned home, we found the Chaldean bishop,
who spoke of
some Latin and Greek inscriptions, which he advised us to see. He
mentioned also several Greek or Genoese ruins among the hills in the
vicinity. In the evening, our host, Khowajah Bidoush, came and sat with
us; and, being a papal Chaldean, entered into a long argument with
B---- respecting the supremacy of Rome, and the meaning of the text
"Thou art Peter." The Khowajah contended strongly for the literal
meaning, while B---- quoted the Fathers, and endeavored to prove that
they had given quite a different interpretation. To my surprise, our
Chaldean friend repudiated the Fathers, talked loudly and long of the
right of private- judgment, and protested that he built his
religion on the declarations of Scripture solely. The dispute struck
the very much, as it displayed an anti-Romanist opposed in his turn by
the "Bible-alone-principle;" though those who are so very strenuous for
it might have differed considerably from the conclusion arrived at by
Khowajah Bidoush. The right of private judgment, as it is understood by
some writers in England, reminds one very much of Warburton's
definition of orthodoxy:114
it implies your own right to put what meaning you like on any passage
of Scripture, and the erroneous impertinence of those who contradict
you.

The next morning, we were obliged to make our
peregrinations in the
rain, and our umbrellas somewhat astonished the small fry of Diarbekir.
V6 re found a pool near the walls filled with holy fish, though I am
not aware of the origin of their sanctity. They looked fat and
comfortable, however, and were by no means timid, coming frequently to
the surface of the pool to look at us, and to receive the morsels of
bread which we threw in from time to time. They had indeed no cause for
fear, as it was expressly forbidden, under severe penalties, to catch
any of them, while the supplying them with food was regarded as highly
meritorious.

We went round to the gates, where we found several
Latin and Greek
inscriptions, parts of which were, however, illegible. One of these
recorded the virtues of the Emperors Valentinian, Valens, and Gratian,
and their benefits conferred on the town. There were also several Kufic
inscriptions, with several emblematical figures carved in bas-relief
over the gates.

There are four gates to Diarbekir, Bab Mardin, Bab
edj Djebal, Bab
edj Djedeed, and Bab er Room, nearly all of which, together with the
black walls, seem to owe their existence to the Romans, or rather to
the Greeks of the Lower Empire. We strolled along the ramparts, and
were much pleased by the view and the appearance of a very picturesque
rock and waterfall between the fortifications and the river.

As we were stopping outside the different gates to
read the
inscriptions, and to sketch the bas-reliefs which appeared upon them,
we were frequently surrounded by crowds of idlers, who viewed our
proceedings evidently with a mixture of curiosity and distrust.
Whispered rumors as to our object began to be disseminated by two or
three who assumed the air of being wiser than their fellows. "Those
Franks are taking surveys of the country, and of the strong places, in
order that their countrymen should know where to make their attacks,"
said one. "No such thing," observed an other; "you know nothing about
it, my friend. These people are cunning magicians, and have dealings
with the djin. I saw one of their countrymen once take out a piece of
paper, over which he held a small glass for a minute or so, and on my
head the whole was consumed to ashes. They are drawing our city on
their papers, which, when they get home, they will burn by means of
these magic glasses, and the effect will be that our city will
gradually fall to ruins." No, no, my soul," remarked another; "this is
too much. That people work in magic, and have dealings with the djin,
is probable; but Stoffer Allah115
to suppose that a man can burn paper with a glass; Kithub, it is a
lie." The narrator had now to defend his own veracity, and this tended
a little to distract public attention from our movements, a diversion
for which we were not unthankful.

Returning home, we found the doctor and his faithful
attendant, who
again endeavored to fasten himself upon me even in the presence of his
master. The latter seemed not indisposed to get rid of him, and,
therefore, gave him a most excellent character, to which, however, I
attached small credence. While we were talking, some one entered the
room, and a voice said to B----, in English, "How do you do?" I looked
up, and saw a good-looking young man of about five and twenty, who was
dressed in the usual Turkish official costume, and announced himself as
Ameen Effendi. He sat down on the sofa, and informed us that he had
resided seven years in England, and had received his education in the
London University; which he spoke of with great affection and
admiration. He had also visited Paris, which he preferred to our own
metropolis in point of elegance and gayety. It was strange to hear a
native of old Amida discoursing of modern scenes and cities in such a
secluded place as this; nor did I think that his travels had improved
Ameen Effendi. The doctor had taken his leave after he came in, but not
before the graduate of Gower Street had pronounced a somewhat
contemptuous opinion of his capabilities.

The next day, we bade adieu to our hospitable host,
Khowajah
Bidoush, who had treated us with the greatest kindness, though no doubt
he looked upon us as sad heretics. As we rode through the streets, a
few urchins hooted at the astounding spectacle of Christians on
horseback; but they scampered off in great haste when they had received
a few lessons of toleration from the lash of Giorgio's riding-whip.
This excepted, we met with no annoyance or inconvenience in our ride to
the gates; having passed which, we took a last farewell of Amida the
black.

Fifteen miles from Diarbekir, we found a small
Kurdish encampment,
where give halted for the night. - The tents were very large, and
frequently divided into four or five compartments by means of screens
manufactured with twigs, or, in some instances, by a low wall of loose
stones. Within these Nomadic dwellings, men and women sat together on
pieces of felt or hair-cloth, which formed rather hard diwans.

From the encampment, we rode on four hours to Kara
Bagheeh, a small
collection of huts, which were nearly all deserted by their former
inhabitants. On asking the reason from the few survivors who still
lingered in 4he places of their birth, we were answered in one emphatic
word "Thulm."116
During
our ride, we had the Taurus at our back and to the right of the road.
The heights were covered with snow, while around the most towering
summits light hazy clouds floated, now hiding from view the crest of
the mountain, and now, as it were, dissolving themselves, and
presenting the appearance of waves in an aerial ocean.

Two hours ride from Kara Bagheeh brought us to Kai
Mari, a small
mound, at the base of which was flowing a small rivulet, around which
were grouped the different members of our caravan that had started from
Diarbekir before us. As they were sitting down to their evening meal, I
could not help thinking that Oriental notions of liberty and equality
were more truly practical than 'our own. The master and his servant sat
down together on the grass to partake of the pillaw which the latter
had cooked; while a black negro, whose society would have been
universally shunned in the free and enlightened country of America, was
here in despotic Turkey seated next to a free white merchant of Mosul.
The black was indeed a slave, and had always been one from his earliest
boyhood; but he had been treated by his owner like a member of the
family, and was now filling a post similar to that of a confidential
clerk. He had been dispatched to Aleppo on a family mission of some
delicacy, regarding his master's younger brother, over whom for the
time being he was to exercise full authority. Our sable friend was well
mounted on a fine stout back; his dress was of good materials; nor did
he seem a whit inferior to any one in the caravan.

A citizen of the American slave states would be
astonished, if not
scandalized, to hear that the Turkish bondman, be he black or white,
possesses frequently greater facilities for rising in the world than
those enjoyed by his free neighbor. He may become the friend, the
counselor, and confidant of his master, and sometimes ends by being
appointed his heir. The white slaves not unfrequently obtain their
freedom, and a wife from their master's family-though I have never
heard that the latter has ever been the case with the blacks. Still the
latter enjoy great personal freedom, are treated with kindness, and
often amass property in their state of servitude. The master of the
household is not, all things considered, more rigorous to his slave
than towards his own sons. The latter are obliged equally to wait upon
the family, to perform domestic tasks, and may not, without permission,
sit in their father's presence. When they do amiss, their chastisement
is rarely lighter than that inflicted on the slave. In short, if we
could admit that the loss of personal freedom can be compensated by
comfort and ease, we might consider the bondman of a wealthy Turkish
merchant, or of an opulent bey, as occupying a station more likely to
be productive of happiness than that of the free peasant or laborer,
who is robbed of his just gains by the tyrannical exertions of an
avaricious mutsellim or a grasping pasha.

From Kai Mari we proceeded to Severek, leaving
behind us our
companions of the caravan, who journeyed more at their leisure. Perhaps
nothing can be more wearying, in Eastern traveling, than marching with
one of these assemblages. Your utmost speed is three miles an hour,
frequently less, and the monotonous walk of your dull post-horse,
broken now and then by a stumble or by unwonted exertions to scramble
over some fragments of rock which lie directly in the centre of your
path, is by no means qualified to make the long hours pass pleasantly
away. Wistfully and longingly the wearied and impatient traveler eyes
the green plains at his side, and thinks how willingly he would take a
gallop over them, even at the risk of missing the road or falling among
thieves--two suppositions not very improbable in these parts.

But nothing can exceed the solid gravity with which
a true Oriental
supports these inconveniences. He sits in his high peaked saddle just
as he would sit on his diwan at home, and his solace--the never-failing
pipe-accompanies him in a round leathern case which hangs by his water
bottle near the pommel of his saddle. If the way is dreary, he yawns,
and after two or three exclamations of Yallah, he draws from his girdle
a match, if he be so fortunate as to possess that luxury; and, having
filled his chibouque from the embroidered Pouch which he carries in the
bosom of his gown, he lights the tobacco, and then inhaling the smoke,
not hurriedly, but in a measured and dignified manner, he thinks of the
prophets and saints who have traversed the same weary route before him.

"Do you not find traveling in this manner very
troublesome?" I
inquired of a young merchant from Mosul, who accompanied us.

"It is fatiguing," he replied; "but-praise be to
God!--I have my
pipe, and the recollection that our Father Ibraheem--on whom be peace
and rest!--passed over these very plains in old days; and surely it is
a great honor for an unworthy sinner like me to tread in the steps of
so great a man."

Our journey to Severek occupied seven hours and a
half, over a road
filled with bogs and quagmires. The constant recurrence of these in
Eastern travel probably suggested some of the finest passages in the
Psalms, where a comparison is frequently instituted between them and
the troubles of life. Nothing can be more specious, or more safe,
apparently, than the nature of the ground before you. You ride forward
in perfect security, when suddenly you are half blinded by two or three
jets of mud, and find yourself floundering in the midst of a morass,
sinking deeper and deeper at every plunge.

The town of Severek is situated about thirty-six
miles south of the
Taurus, between Diarbekir and the Euphrates. It contains a population
of 700 families, of whom 120 are Armenians, five or six Jews, and the
rest Mohammedans. There is a mound in the centre of the town, on which
we found the ruins of an ancient citadel. The bazaars were very
wretched buildings, but the mosques and baths not unworthy a handsome
town. Around in the outskirts, we saw several plantations of
fruit-trees and vineyards, which latter belong exclusively to the
Christians.

The day after our arrival being Sunday, we read over
the morning
service in the Armenian Church, which was kindly lent to us for that
purpose, the Christians thinking, most likely, that it was better we
should pray in our own way than not at all--a sentiment which some of
their more civilized brethren would find some difficulty in agreeing
to.

We went on from this place to Dashlik, a few huts
placed at the foot
of a mound, on the summit of which we found an ancient tomb without any
inscription, but probably belonging to the period of the Lower Empire.
The mountains of the Taurus were still discernible in the distance; and
frequently when, amid the quagmires and morasses of the road, I looked
upon their summits, lit up with the glories of a mid-day sun, I could
not help being reminded of the hopeful confidence of a good man, who
raises his thoughts from the troubles and calamities of life to those
eternal regions of the blessed where the wandering and the weary shall
be at peace for ever.

Eight hours' ride from Severek brought us to a small
village called
Kara Djourma, where we found some families of Yezidees living in black
tents. An altercation here ensued with the soldiers of our escort who
had accompanied us from Severek, and who were very anxious to persuade
us to go on to Urfah by a longer and a more circuitous route than we
had originally intended. By and by, however, the truth came out.
Sufook, the celebrated chieftain of the Shammar tribe, was, in the
vicinity; and some of his Arabs having been plundered by the Governor
of Severek, he had sworn that he would plunder every caravan that
passed that way. This was rather unpleasant news, particularly as
Sufook was noted, on such occasions, for keeping his word to the very
letter; and, having separated from our companions, we had only the
courage of our guards to trust to, which was rather a questionable
ground of confidence. We deemed it wiser, therefore, to put in practice
the better part of valor, and incur the inconvenience of a lengthened
route, rather than that of being stripped to the skin and compelled to
walk barefooted to the next village; so we followed the advice of
Giorgio, who had formerly had a rencontre with St. Nicholas' clerks,
which he related to me in nearly the following terms:--

"On one occasion, I was dispatched by the English
consul at Mosul to
bring a large sum from Baghdad to the latter place. I had also some
money of my own to receive; so I armed myself, and went down the Tigris
on a raft, hoping in less than a fortnight to have accomplished my
business and to have returned. When I arrived at Baghdad, I found that
the consul's money had been forwarded to him; but my own was waiting
for me, and I took it and departed in peace. There was some talk of the
Kurds or Arabs being about the road, and many advised me to wait for a
caravan; but I thought all these tales were invented by the cowardice
of the Easterns, and that it would ill become me, who am a Greek, to
listen to them. So I took with me a Turkish soldier, my gun, and a
sabre, and departed. I had disposed of my money in the belt which I
wore, and did not doubt that I should be able to escape both the Kurds
and Arabs.

"For a day and a half we pursued our journey in
safety, though my
companion was very fearful, and was always telling me of the caravans
that had been stopped near this place, and of the men who had lost
their lives. But I bade him hold his tongue, and informed him that a
Greek does not fear all the Kurds and Arabs in the world, seeing that
they are all senseless animals, and barbarians who have no manners. But
while I was telling him this, he uttered an exclamation, and said, 'Oh,
the Merciful One, the Kurds are upon us!' Then he spurred his horse
forward, and fled.

"I looked round and perceived three fellows on
horseback with long
spears, who were galloping after me, and who seemed to have no other
companions with them. Then I thought; surely it is a shame to fly
before these three; so I waited till they came up; when, in answer to
their summons to deliver up my money, I fired my gun at the foremost,
and laid him rolling on the sand. The other two then uttered a shrill
scream, when, Panagia! there came from behind one of the mounds a whole
troop of these savages with their long spears, who, when they saw their
comrade down, made at me with the most determined fury. Now, I am a
poor weak man, and not like my countryman Achilles, who, they say,
encountered a host with his single arm; so I turned my horse's head,
and followed the Turk as hard as I could gallop. But my hired hack was
no match for the steeds of the robbers, who soon came up with me and
pierced my back with three spears at once, whereupon I fell to the
ground bleeding and motionless.

"They thought I was dead, and immediately began to
strip me. They
took every article of clothing, and when I became sensible, I found
myself lying on the sand, with only a shirt on, and three or four
wounds, the smarting of which caused me intolerable pain. My horse was
gone; wherefore, after having bound up my wounds in the best way I
could, I managed to walk to the next village, about ten miles, with a
burning sun beating fiercely on my head and blistering my skin. I
fainted several times before I got to the village, and, had I been an
Eastern, my bones might, to this day, have been bleaching in that sandy
plain; but--praise be to God!--I am a Greek; and so I overcame all
these difficulties, and reached the village in safety, where they
treated me with great kindness (for they were Christians) and tended my
wounds. When I recovered, I contrived to hire a Horse and return to
Mosul, where I found the money from Baghdad had arrived safely."

By the time Giorgio had finished his story, we came
to a scene which
recalled the ancient days of patriarchal simplicity. In an undulating
plain, surrounded by low downs, we saw several hundreds of sheep and
goats feeding quietly, and extending themselves far and wide over the
verdant area. In one part, a small flock of them were following their
shepherd to a more promising piece of pasturage; he walked before them,
and carried, in the bosom of his gown, a favorite young lamb. Through
the green meadows flowed a small rivulet, to whose pure rippling stream
a few goats or sheep wandered occasionally to quench their thirst. The
chief shepherd, or master of the flock, was a venerable man, with a
long silvery beard, which descended as far as the girdle, reminding me
forcibly of Abraham, or of one of the patriarchs.

Nothing could be more agreeable than our journey
over these downs.
The air blew cool and fresh from the distant mountains of the Taurus;
the aspect of the country around was diversified by trees and shrubs,
watered by small rivulets, which seemed to flow in the direction of the
Euphrates. The sound of the sheep bells and the bleating of the flocks
alone broke the silence of the wilderness, and relieved the tedious
ness of solitude. Pitching our tent on the borders of one of the
rivulets, we passed a comfortable evening; and when night drew on, the
serenity of the weather so far tempted me that I had my coverlet spread
outside in the open air, where I gazed for some time on the cloudless
Mesopotamian sky and the brilliant stars, and then fell asleep.

The next morning, we were on horseback at 3 A. M.,
and pursued our
way over the downs to Kara Kupri, which we reached about 8 A. M. It was
surrounded by trees, on several of which we perceived rags and strips
of cloth and ribbon attached to the branches. These, we were informed,
were votive offerings, made chiefly by the female peasantry, for the
safety of some relative or friend who had gone a journey. An hour after
leaving Kara Kupri, we came in sight of Urfah.

CHAPTER XXX

Urfah. Mochdesseh Yeshua. A Bedouin.
Syrian observances. Church of
St. Thaddeus. Bir. Passage of the Euphrates. Aleppo. English merchants.
An Austrian consul.

THE city of Urfah is built at the foot of a low
range of chalk
hills, part of the town being situated on the rising ground. It
presents a very beautiful appearance from a distance, being almost
embosomed in trees. Nor does the interior so much disappoint the eye as
that of most Eastern towns; the streets are clean, and well supplied
with water, as the city possesses numerous springs.

We took up our quarters at the house of a
respectable Syrian, whose
name was Yeshua, or Joshua, to which was added the honorific of
mochdesseh, or pilgrim, a term used; among the Christians, as
equivalent to the Mohammedan word hadjee, which is applied to one who
has visited Mecca. The appellation of mochdesseh is given, in like
manner, to a person who has made the Eastern pilgrimage to Jerusalem.
The worthy mochdesseh, however, scarcely answered to the usual romantic
conception and description of a Palmer from the Holy Land. He was a
stout, sleepy-looking Syrian merchant, with very matter-of-fact habits
and manners. He treated us, however, with great kindness and civility,
though his demeanor to others was that of a man who knows he has money
in his pocket.

In the house of Mochdesseh Yeshua, several married
sons had taken up
their abode with their wives. Although, according to Eastern opinions,
settled in life, and emancipated from the shackles of youthful
obedience, their behavior to their father presented a striking and
agreeable contrast to the conduct of young men of their own age in
snore civilized countries. The old-fashioned notions of the Orientals
do not tolerate that familiarity which every stripling, scarcely out of
his teens, would think himself justified in using towards his parent in
this our enlightened and educated land. An Eastern father would deem
the correction of the rod needed by some of those lingerers between
boyhood and manhood whose shrill piping tone and nauseous affectation
of manly airs render their society so disagreeable to people of mature
age.

The houses of Urfah are built of white stone, which
materially
improves their appearance, and they abound with windows; so that a walk
through one of the streets does not, as in Mosul, present the eye with
an interminable series oÇ dead walls. Gardens abound in every
direction, and the sides of the hills in the vicinity are covered with
vineyards, owned by Christians, who make of the produce wine of most
excellent quality. The town contains fifteen mosques, several Christian
churches, and about forty thousand inhabitants, of which twenty
thousand are Christians. The latter are made to pay all the taxes, as
well their own as those of their Mohammedan fellow-citizens, and are
subject to great insult and oppression.

A son of Mochdesseh Yeshua informed me that there
were originally in
the town a body of Moslems, whose functions seemed to have resembled
those of our militia, and who called themselves Yencheri, or
Janizaries. When, however, the Constantinople Yencheri were broken up,
these gentlemen deemed it prudent to retire into the obscurity of
private life, from which, however, they now and then emerged, in order
to worry and annoy the Christians. An unfortunate Syrian had been
visited by them a few clays before our arrival; they demanded spirits,
and on his refusal to supply them, broke everything in his house. He
appealed to the pasha, but in vain; the Yencheri were too powerful to
be interfered with, and the poor Christian was obliged to sacrifice a
large sum in order to get rid of his tormentors. There are also in
Urfah thirty families of Jews, who have two synagogues, and share in
the persecution which the Christians suffer from the Mohammedans. Here,
as elsewhere, however, the poor Jews are treated worse than the
Christians.

Soon after our arrival, we received visits from a
Greek doctor, an
Armenian banker, and a Syrian priest. The Greek had come all the way
from Athens to explain practically the mysteries of Hippocrates to the
Syrians of ancient Edessa, nor did he at all lament the lot which had
fixed him in the midst of barbarians. He was well spoken of in the
town, although he had a Frank practitioner to contend with, who was
often admitted to the honor of feeling the pasha's pulse. The latter
gentleman had not recommended civilization by his moral conduct, being,
in fact, one of those numerous harpies who are so often found preying
on the corpse of unfortunate Turkey. The Sultan would confer a great
public benefit to his subjects, could he send these gentry back again
to their respective countries, to which, however, their return would be
anything but welcome.

The Armenian was fat, pursy, and important: a
species of Christian
Hebrew, with a good-humored, though somewhat dull, countenance. The
Syrian priest had been sent on a mission from his bishop to invite us
to visit their church and schools. Besides these, a visitor of a novel
description came to pay his respects to us. He was a Bedouin Arab from
the encampment of Sufook, and brought an invitation, from that
chieftain to B----, who returned an answer that he would visit the head
of the Shammar the next day at Haran. The demeanor of this rugged son
of the desert was as free and independent as though he had been Pasha
of Urfah and all its dependencies. He looked complacently on his bare
feet, and pitied its for being obliged to submit to the slavery of
wearing shoes and stockings.

"Who," he exclaimed, "is more truly free than the
Arab, that has
nothing to care for save his children and his mares? Free from the
oppression and the vices of the town, his tent requires no thought, for
in a few minutes it is pitched, and in a short time it is removed. The
dweller in cities is bound to one spot, for he cannot carry his house
with him; but the Bedouin is to-day on the banks of the Euphrates and
to morrow beyond the Tigris. The Bedouin has no wants; he requires only
a little rice and his haick. Whose steeds are like those of the Arab?
They fly like the wind; and the lightning passes not with greater
rapidity from one end of heaven to the other than the mare of the
Bedouin."

When this encomiast of a savage life had taken his
departure, we
went forth to see the town. One of the most striking of the public
buildings was the mosque of Ibraheem (the Patriarch Abraham), surnamed
El Khalil, the friend or companion of God. The Syrian writers all agree
in considering Urfah the ancient Ur of the Chaldees, nor does the
supposition seem improbable. I have already mentioned my reasons for
supposing that the Chaldean race occupied at first the northern parts
of Mesopotamia. The only argument against this hypothesis seems to be
the position of Haran, which lies south-east of Urfah, and would seem,
therefore, to be out of the Aleppo route. Yet the language of Scripture
does not necessarily infer that Abraham proceeded thither on his way to
Palestine, as he appears to have remained at Haran a considerable time.
The hypothesis which places Ur in Susiana seems, however, utterly
untenable, and is founded only on the assumption that Babel, the
metropolis of Nimrod, was in the province afterwards called Chaldea,
near the modern Baghdad. The ancient traditions all mention that
Abraham was put into a furnace of fire at Ur by the command of the
tyrannical Nimrod. If, however, the latter was the sovereign of
northern Mesopotamia, there is nothing in that fact to render the
identification of Urfah with Ur disputable. It is remarkable that a
small eminence not far from this town still bears the appellation
of Nimrod Tagh, or the mountain of Nimrod.

The mosque of Ibrabeem el Khalil is delightfully
situated in the
midst of a plantation of trees, among which we discerned also a fine
tank filled with large fish, who are. regarded with treat veneration,
and are fed daily by a person appointed for that purpose. Near the tank
were several stalls, where bread and cakes were sold to those who were
desirous of fulfilling the meritorious task of supplying the
necessities of the finny tribe. The fish seemed very happy and
contented, and doubtless found the reputation of sanctity very
convenient in many ways. I aid not quarrel with the Moslem for their
care of the fish, though I told some of them that attention to the
wants of their poor fellow men would be in my estimation a better
action; an opinion which did not excite much approval, and doubtless
caused me to be regarded as a skeptical and heretical sort of person.

Near the mosque was a fine old tower, which had
formerly been part
of a Christian church when Edessa was famous for its academical
reputation. I spent the day in rambling about, and in musing over
ancient walls and remains that encountered me at every step. In the
course of my walk, I proceeded through a very picturesque cemetery, up
the side of the bill on which the citadel, a mere modern building, is
constructed. Within the walls of the latter were two Corinthian
pillars, which seemed anciently to have been surmounted by statues.
Near the top of one, we were told, was a Chaldean inscription. On the
side of another hill in the vicinity, I observed several sepulchral
grots and excavations, with some arches of Greek or Roman construction.
Near the citadel was another reservoir of sacred fish.

We then proceeded to the Armenian church, an old
building situated
in the midst of a cemetery. It was filled with tawdry pictures of the
day of judgment, in which, as elsewhere, devils with horns, long tails,
and three-pronged forks figured very conspicuously. Among the
paintings, however, was one of superior execution, representing the
Blessed Virgin and the infant Saviour, which I was told had been
executed by St. Thaddeus. From the Armenian church we repaired to the
house of the Syrian bishop, who received us with great kindness. He
mentioned that his community had succeeded in obtaining permission to
erect a new church outside the ramparts of the city, which was rather
an innovation on Moslem law and practice. We then went to inspect the
Syrian schools, which we found in excellent condition, though they
complained sadly of want of books, a frequent want in a country where
there are scarcely any printing presses, and where the labor and
expense of transcription forbid the multiplication of copies of even:
the most elementary works.

From the Syrian church we repaired to the Serai, in
order to wait
upon the pasha, a most inane-looking personage, with two projecting
teeth like the tusks of a wild boar. His excellency asked whether
England was contiguous to India, and whether we intended returning home
by land.

The next day I felt too unwell to accompany B----,
who repaired,
according to agreement, to pay the promised visit to Sufook. He took
with him a tinseled dress as an offering to the Arab chief, who, in
return for this civility, presented him with a fine young Arab horse.
B---- then visited Haran, of which he reported that a few old walls
were the only remains. Giorgio had also his tale to tell, for, having
in a fit of curiosity mounted a camel, the beast set off with him, nolens
volens, into the desert, and was stopped with great difficulty.

The next day being Sunday, and the Feast of
Pentecost, or Whit
Sunday, I accompanied our host and his son to the Syrian church. It was
handsomely decorated for the occasion, and, as the service commenced
before daybreak, the silver lamps were all lighted, which produced a
fine effect, and corresponded well with the rich robes of the bishop
and numerous officiating priests and deacons. Before prayers began, the
clergy marched in procession round the church, sprinkling the
congregation with boughs dipped in water, which ceremony they repeated
three times. Some prayers and lessons followed, after which the bishop
and priests lay down before the altar in the attitude of persons about
to sleep. All of a sudden they started up, and began tapping each other
on the back. While I was marveling what this could mean, all the
congregation imitated their example, upon which I turned round and
asked my companion the reason. He whispered that, on the morning of
Whit Sunday, the apostles, having waited all night for the descent of
the Holy Ghost, became towards morning very drowsy, and adopted this
means of keeping one another awake. This practice; he added, was in
commemoration of it.

After the tapping was over, the service proceeded as
usual, and on
its termination, I went to pay the compliments of the feast to the
bishop and his priests, who were good enough to invite me to breakfast.

On Monday morning, B---- and I resumed our
peregrinations, and
visited a celebrated well, about half an hour's walk from the town,
which was called Beer Aiyoub, the Well of Job. In this well, it is
said, was thrown the miraculous picture which our Saviour sent to King
Agbarus. We descended eight steps into a subterranean cave, where, we
were told, Job resided during his affliction. From the Well of Job we
repaired to the Armenian Church of SS. Thaddeus and Ephraim Syrus. The
church itself contained little worthy of notice, though the date of its
erection was the third century. We descended nine steps into a stone
crypt beneath, where we were shown the tombs of the two saints, with
some other monuments.

After some conversation with the Armenian clergy, we
visited the
ancient quarries, which seemed to have been very extensive, and
abounded with sepulchral excavations. Near at band was a building
called the Ziarah of Sheikh Makhoud, which our guides very much wished
us to see. Being, however, unable to make any one hear, one of the
khawasses with us adopted the novel expedient of firing his pistol into
the keyhole. The attempt, however, did not succeed, and we were doomed
to be disappointed of the promised sight.

From hence we walked round the gardens, enjoying
their fresh and
verdant appearance. We entered into conversation with an old Syrian,
who offered us some fruit, and invited us to sit and rest ourselves
under his trees. After a brief pause, we went on to the Piaret
Suleiman, a pool in closed by walls, in which the legend relates that
St. Thaddeus baptized the King of Edessa. Bottles of this water, are
sent throughout all parts of the surrounding country, and are
considered a certain specific against disease. The spring abounds in
fish, which no person is allowed to touch.

In our way home, we passed along the banks of the
Kara Kiouy, a
small rivulet flowing through two high banks, connected by several
bridges, nearly the whole of which had been newly erected. Following
the course of the stream, we returned to the town, and past an almost
endless succession of orchards and gardens. The environs of Urfah
present some of the most pleasing views in this part of Mesopotamia,
and remind the traveler that lie is already on the verge of that land
of the plain and shrub.

When we reached home, we found one of the Christian
inhabitants of
the town, who had come in great affliction to ask the advice of our
host under the following circumstances. His son, a boy of thirteen, had
been sent out with a few piastres to bring something from the bazaar.
As he was going thither, he encountered a troop of playfellows, who
engaged him in some interesting game, which so engrossed his attention
that he lost the money which his father had given him. Not knowing what
excuse to make, and dreading the chastisement of his angry parents, he
stood crying at the corner of the street. A Mohammedan, who was passing
by, inquired the cause, and, having heard the boy's story, induced him
to come to his house, promising to repair his loss. The child followed
his new friend, and in the evening a message came to the almost
distracted father that his son had embraced Islamism, and that he would
see him no more. The terrified parent repaired to the dwelling of the
Moslem; but the latter had prevailed upon the boy to refuse to return
with his father, and, as he had already repeated the profession of
faith, he could not, without periling his life, resume again the name
of Christian. Nothing, however, could be done in the matter, as the
pasha, though not a bigoted Moslem, feared the violence of the
Yenchiri, and other of the Mohammedan faction, who declared that they
would carry off the youth by violence from his father, even if he were
now restored to him.

The next day we made preparations for our departure
from Urfah; but
our friends were unwilling that we should proceed without a parting
mark of their hospitality. It was arranged that we were to accompany
them to the premises connected with the church of Mar Ephraim, where
they intended to dine, and make kaif, and the next morning bid us
adieu. After accepting their invitation, we sent on our baggage under
the charge of Giorgio; took a farewell ramble about ancient Edessa, and
at four o'clock joined our friends near, Mar Ephraim.

At sunset, we sat down, cross-legged, to an
excellent dinner, al
fresco, in company with our worthy host, the Greek doctor, and the
stout Armenian banker, who 'seemed to be somewhat of an epicure. Then
there were several priests of the Armenian and Syrian communities, and
the venerable Armenian bishop, who pronounced a long grace before and
after meat.

As the evening drew on, the scene, presented many
attractions to the
eye of one who, like myself, is fond of strange groups and curious
combinations. A lover of the romantic would have remarked with pleasure
the mild and chastened light which the rising moon cast on the
fantastic arches, and irregular, though striking, buildings connected
with the old church of St. Ephraim, above which appeared the summit of
the Acropolis, with its two lone columns, that had witnessed so many
stirring spectacles. Beyond was the town, with its masses of foliage,
and the graceful dome of the Mosque of Ibraheem, recalling the memory
of the patriarch pilgrim who left the city of his fathers to wander he
knew not whither. On the side, the eye caught a glimpse of the low
building which surrounded the pool where the first Christian monarch of
Edessa received his initiation into that faith to which his descendants
so faithfully adhered. It seemed almost a vision that flitted before
the fancy when I strove to realize the fact that I was treading ground
made memorable by such recollections, and surrounded by the living
posterity of that old Chaldean race.

Nor should the latter be entirely passed over while
I endeavor to
recall the circumstances which attended my farewell to a place so
remarkable. The worthy mochdesseh presses his good cheer upon us with
all the fervor of Eastern hospitality till the tables are removed, and
we sit-in all the luxury of the dolce far niente, under the
shade of the trees, inhaling the chibouque or narguileh, and drinking
the juice of the genuine mocha berry from cups no larger than those
usually appropriated to eggs in this country. The portly Armenian is
expanding under the genial influence of Edessa wine; the Greek is
haranguing with all the loquacity of his nation; and the good old
bishop, with his venerable beard, smiles gently on our mirth, as if we
were all his own spiritual children. By and by, the doctor volunteers
the Romaika, and, choosing out a plat of grass illumined by the moon's
rays, he goes through those ancient evolutions, greatly to the
company's satisfaction and his own. A band of wandering minstrels have
joined us, and, after a few cups of wine, they give vent to one of
those strange nasal Oriental melodies that one is about to pronounce
frightful, when some pleasing notes suspend our condemnation, and leave
us at a loss to determine whether we like them or not.

At length, the revelry is at an end, and the party
remain buried in
slumber till the first dawn of day summons the attendants to prepare
for the march. A few words of farewell, an affectionate blessing from
the bishop as we stoop to kiss his hand, and we are in our saddles
taking our last glance at ancient Edessa, and its hospitable sons.

After a long and weary ride over low hills, whose
white and chalky
ridges presented an unpleasing contrast to the verdant plantations we
had just quitted, we arrived at Charmelik, a village of cone-shaped
huts, which is inhabited in the winter only by wandering Turcomans. In
the spring and summer, they dwell in tents, and roam through the
Mesopotamian plains to seek pasture for their numerous flocks. We took
up our quarters in a deserted khan, opposite to which was a ruined
mosque, in the interior of which we found the remains of the
pulpit-steps, and the niche to show the direction of Mecca. In the
neighborhood were several cisterns or tanks, excavated in the rocky
soil, with steps to enable the drawers of water to descend.

The next day we journeyed eight hours to Bir or
Biredjeck, on the
Euphrates, over low hills of limestone, the reflection from which
proved intolerable after the sun had risen. The roads were very good,
however, having been recently constructed by Hafiz Pasha, who also
excavated a large tank which we passed on our journey. As we halted to
take a little rest and refreshment, a man habited like a dervish
approached us. He professed to be a serpent charmer, and drew one of
the reptiles from beneath his cloak, which he compelled to go through
sundry contortions, and finished by winding it round his neck, like a
necklace.

At Bir, we passed the night in a plantation
overlooking the river,
on the opposite bank of which were the remains of a fort which the
officers of the Euphrates Expedition bad entitled Fort William, an
appellation rather out of place in such a country, where one dislikes
nothing so much as to be dragged back from the contemplation of
antiquity by the recollection of modern doings. Not that I would,
however, in the least degree undervalue the importance of the
expedition, or overlook the merits of the gallant officers engaged in
it, though one cannot exactly view it in the same light as the
Anabasis.

The next morning we crossed the Euphrates in w boat,
which was
certainly in keeping with the scenery, as it was undoubtedly a model of
what had been used two thousand years ago, or more. With all my respect
for antiquity, I must, however, admit that our progress was slow, and
our vessel leaky, two circumstances which made us rather pleased when
landed in safety on the other side.

In seven hours and a half, we reached the banks of
the Sajoor, a
tributary of the Euphrates, where we encamped for the night, and I
experienced for the first time the distressing symptoms of fever and
ague. Under our present circumstances, however, it was impossible to
stop, and I was obliged to be content with the prospect of a speedy
arrival at Aleppo.

In the morning, we crossed the Sajoor, and pitched
our tent at the
base of a small mound, near which we observed the ruins of a wall
composed of stones, whose dimensions were truly gigantic. I continued
very ill, and though Giorgio arranged my coverlet in the best manner he
could on the back of the mule, and our pace was exceedingly slow, yet
the motion of the animal, and the hot scorching rays of a Syrian sun,
proved almost insupportable. We passed the night near the mound, and
the next morning went on to a plantation called Ain Kailan, which we
quitted in the afternoon, and soon came in sight of the citadel and
minarets of Aleppo, a prospect which then afforded me more pleasure
than the finest landscape in the world. It was some time, however,
before we reached the city and arrived at the house of Nahum Azar, a
Syrian merchant, with whom we were to take up our abode for a few days.

My first impression with regard to Aleppo was the
exceeding neatness
and cleanliness of the streets, as well as the lively appearance of the
people, and the gay exteriors of the houses, so different from the
sombre aspect of an Assyrian town. The dwelling of our entertainer was
pleasantly situated, and in the centre of the well-paved court we were
pleased to notice a marble fountain, whose refreshing streams relieved
the heat of mid-day. The houses of Aleppo were well built, and their
arrangements displayed a higher and more refined taste than those of
the towns we had left. This city may almost be considered to have
succeeded to Antioch as the capital of northern Syria, and possesses
probably as much commerce as any large town of Asiatic Turkey. The
bazaars almost reminded me of Constantinople; and the splendid and
varied costumes recalled the scenes which had so powerfully impressed
me at Smyrna. The inhabitants, both male and female, of Aleppo are a
handsome race, if I might judge from those whom I saw abroad. Both
natives and sojourners, however, are subject to a species of disease
called the Aleppo button, the effects of which are said to be very
disfiguring.

Aleppo possesses a fine citadel, situated on an
eminence in the
midst of the town. In it are preserved several arrows, bows, and other
warlike instruments, said to be as old as the Crusades. This
prospect from the ramparts was magnificent: the eye ranged far and wide
to the east, over the fertile plains which intervene between the
Euphrates and the capital of northern Syria, while to the west appeared
the dim outlines of Mount Amanus, and the country around
Antioch. Like Asia Minor, this part of Syria seems too fair a portion
of the earth to remain in the hands of barbarians, whose tyranny and
oppression rob the verdant hills and smiling valleys of their charms.
Still the influence of one of the finest climates in the world has
probably not been without some grateful influence on the mind of the
enslaved Syrian. His spirits are as light and elastic as those of a
Greek, and he has learned to dance in his fetters. Perhaps, indeed, he
scarcely feels them gall him.

In the days of Maundrell, a large English factory
was established in
Aleppo, which possessed a monopoly of the trade to the East. This
factory and its exclusive privileges have long ago disappeared; but a
few English merchants still continue to carry on their commerce here.
Times, however, are much changed since Maundrell resided at Aleppo as
the representative of the English Church, and praised the diligence of
his countrymen in attending daily on divine worship. The English
residents are now left without chapel or chaplain, and scarcely ever
have an opportunity of enjoying the public ordinances of religion.

It seems strange when we reflect that the English,
who pride
themselves upon being one of the most pious nations in the world,
should be infinitely behind every other in providing for the spiritual
wants of those of their countrymen who reside abroad. One can scarcely
find two Oriental families anywhere without a priest and a church; the
Romanist has his chapels and clergy in every inhabited spot; and even
Mohammedans and pagans rarely live long in any foreign land without
raising a mosque or a temple for the services of religion. But when the
English do provide such accommodations, they are generally of the
meanest and most inexpensive description. Some garret or some cheap
apartment on the second floor, situated, as a matter of course, in the
filthiest and most remote corner of the town, is generally pointed out
as the English chapel. Nor is it surprising that, under these
circumstances, the natives of Great Britain should gain the credit of
having no religion. The Italian friar, the Greek or Syrian priest who
resides at Aleppo, sees a large body of our countrymen living without a
church, a clergyman, or any outward manifestation of their religious
faith; and he immediately comes to the same conclusion that every other
reasoning being would, namely, that the Ingleez are fermasoon or
infidels.

Nor has this been the impression of foreign
Christians only: It has
been shared by Mohammedans and pagans. I have heard both, in different
parts of the world, give our countrymen this character. Now, while
these things are so, it would be surely better to alter and amend them
than to indulge in the national cant about being misrepresented and
calumniated. Are we to give men, two or three thousand miles off, whose
ideas of our island are confused and contradictory, credit for knowing
what passes in England; and expect that they shall understand all about
our religious and charitable societies? Their estimate of us must, and
will be, formed by the conduct of the persons who come out from us, and
this we cannot prevent.

It is somewhat ridiculous to hear a sensible man
like Mr. Layard
accusing the Romish missionaries of misrepresenting the English
character. In the first place, what they say is not misrepresentation,
according to their opportunities of judging; and secondly, it is,
unfortunately, not the Romanists alone who entertain this opinion of
us. Let Mr. Layard ask any sensible Mohammedan, any decent pagan, or
any devout Jew his sentiments respecting the English and their
religion, and he will obtain the same reply in nearly the same terms.
The Romish missionaries may have been guilty of exaggeration; this is
probable enough; but I am certain they have too many grounds on which
to found their remarks. Surely, in the nineteenth century, it is time
to discard the wretched Pharisaical cant respecting Englishmen being so
much more pious, moral, and religious than their neighbors.

Besides the merchants of our nation settled at
Aleppo, we found
commercial men of all countries inhabiting this Syrian mart. One of
these gentlemen, a Genoese, informed me that he had been fifteen years
in the country, and he seemed proud of being able to add that he knew
scarcely three words of the language. He spent his leisure hours-as
most of his class do-in talking scandal, smoking cigars, and indulging
in that common Italian luxury the dolce far niente. All these
gentry of course despised the natives of the country most intensely,
though probably most of them were their inferiors in knowledge and even
in education. Every one of the native merchants understood how to write
and cipher, and the Franks knew no more.

One day, during my stay at Aleppo, I accompanied
Khowajah Mansoor, a
young merchant of Mosul, to make some purchases at a Frank warehouse
near the citadel. The master of the establishment, a young Hebrew,
informed me that he was the representative of the Austrian government,
and gave an amusing account of his mode of keeping up his consular
dignity.

"You see, signore," he remarked, "I am a man of
business, as was my
father before me, and therefore you must not feel surprised to behold
me, at present, habited in a simple jacket and patched pantaloons. On
state days, however, I resume the dignity which at present I feel is
better laid aside. Could you see me when I visit the pasha, you would
be astonished at the change. I hire four Janizaries who, with a loud
voice, clear the way before me for the passage of my mule. They are
dressed; for that day only, in laced habiliments, of which I have a
great quantity within. I array myself in a magnificent uniform, and'
all the people salute me as Khowajah Ibraheem. For the best part of the
week, my mother attends to the warehouse, and I occupy myself in my
studies. Do you ask what they are? I read Arabic histories and
geographies, and study the learned works of the Rabbins. I dabble
occasionally in the occult sciences, and am well acquainted with
astrology; mathematics are familiar to me, and I have gone several
times through the problems of Euclid. I am now learning the Greek
language, that I may enjoy the beauties of those incomparable writers
who have enlightened the world. In religion, I hold liberal opinions,
and am, therefore, well disposed towards the English nation. Should
you, then, require my services, or feel disposed to visit my study, I
shall be ravished at the honor of entertaining you."

To this speech I made a suitable reply, and
expressed my surprise
and delight at encountering, so unexpectedly, a man of so much
learning. The consul then turned to my companion, and, after much
haggling, sold him a penknife, which the latter found afterwards was
worth about a quarter of the price he had paid for it. He tried also to
have dealings with me, and expressed his readiness to cash any orders
or bills of exchange at a moderate rate of interest. I found, however,
that all his learning had left him a somewhat keen eye for the main
chance, and thought it might be safer to refrain from all pecuniary
transactions with a gentleman of such extensive knowledge.

While on a visit to Mr. Wherry, our hospitable
consul, I made
acquaintance with his dragoman, M. Michael Sola, who had been, I
understood from him, in the employ of Lady Hester Stanhope. He gave me
much information respecting that singular person, whose love for Syria
and its mysterious associations are so well known. Her ladyship was,
however, very rigid and exacting in her ways. She both loved and
exercised power, and on one occasion had M. Sola shut up in prison for
some whimsical reason. I asked him if she really possessed much
influence with the natives on religious grounds. He replied that they
neither understood nor gave any credence to her pretensions; but many
of them found it profitable to carry her strange stories about
astrology and magic, and to listen respectfully to the long orations in
which she endeavored to enlighten them.

It is strange how, even after a short residence in
the East, the
love of that region, its habits, and its mysticism groins upon the
mind. Many instances have come under my notice of persons who, from
sojourners, have become residents, and feel little disposed to change
their place of abode for a more civilized habitation. Is it an
instinctive attraction, an inexplicable longing for the early home of
our race, or the influence of early implanted religious feeling, that
draws us to spots where God has so frequently made Himself visible to
man, and the footsteps of prophets and saints have consecrated the very
soil?

CHAPTER XXXI

Journey from Aleppo. Antioch. Latakia.
Conclusion.

NOT far from Aleppo is the town of Scanderoon,
situated on the gulf
of that name. It is the seaport of the former city, whence merchandise
is exported to Europe and other parts, and is frequented by many
vessels, though its unhealthiness is such that few persons can reside
there for any length of time with impunity. Near this place, lived an
Englishman who had embraced the creed of Islam, and was married to
three Syrian ladies of the same faith. He was said to be an eccentric
individual, and had erected a costly tomb over the remains of a
favorite dog.

Aleppo seems to be the head quarters of the
different Christian
churches and sects prevalent in Syria. Maximus, the papal Patriarch of
the Syrians, had his residence here. He received his education at Rome,
and was considered a man of some ability. The Greek Melekites have a
church at Aleppo, and a very fair congregation. We attended service
there one Sunday, and could follow it tolerably, having acquired the
Greek mode of pronunciation. Only certain parts of the Liturgy,
however, were in the Greek language, as the Melekites use the Arabic in
their ministrations. The church was not well fitted up, and, as usual,
decorated with tawdry pictures. Nor could the chanting be considered
agreeable to a European ear. At the end of the Liturgy, certain
portions of consecrated bread were handed round, of which we partook.
This is a remnant of the ancient Agapai, or dove feasts, still retained
in the Oriental churches. The Armenians and papal Syrians have two
superb places of worship, adorned with silver lamps and some
well-executed paintings.

On the Monday, a female ballad singer came into the
court, and,
being known to the family, she sang several songs in Arabic, and made
extempore verses on some of the company. She played off two or three
practical jokes, which occasioned some amusement, especially when,
approaching a very pompous individual, she requested permission to kiss
his hand; but, on his holding it out for that purpose, gave him a sharp
bite.

In the course of the afternoon, we paid a visit to a
newly married
couple, and were introduced to the bride. She was a beautiful young
woman, richly dressed, but very childish in her demeanor. Her husband
was a wealthy merchant, and possessed a magnificent house, containing
some spacious apartments and several handsome fountains. Nothing can
equal the splendor in which the rich Aleppines live, though the city is
not without its quota of poor hovels, inhabited by ragged and
poverty-stricken natives.

The gardens of Aleppo are famed for their beauty,
and the
capabilities which they afford for kaif. We accompanied Nahum Azar to
one of these parties, where the usual routine of smoking and
story-telling went on for some hours. Two of the company were Melekite
Greeks, who had resided some time in Italy. They possessed a tolerable
library for the East; consisting chiefly of theological works.

We stayed for some days at Aleppo, to enable me to
recover from my
fever and ague, which still continued very troublesome. The usual
treatment is to place the patient on a bed, and to heap upon him an
innumerable quantity of coverings, which produce perspiration during
the shivering stage of this disorder. While I was lying under a
mountain of bed--clothes, the mother of Nahum Azar brought me a small
phial of water which had been procured from the Holy Well at Edessa,
and begged me to try it as a remedy. To please the good old lady, I
swallowed the whole at a draught, but cannot speak positively as to its
effects, as I had previously taken some common medicine, and certainly
found myself better on the succeeding day. My recovery was ascribed,
however, to the water by some of the family, though Nahum Azar shook
his head suspiciously, and seemed to consider it a doubtful matter.

Having recovered sufficiently to resume my journey,
we left Aleppo,
on the third of June, for Kefer Dail, a small village about fifteen
miles distant. It was inhabited by Arabs, who afforded us, very sorry
accommodation. We took up our quarters on a ruined terrace, which had
formerly belonged to the mansion of a bey. From Kefer Dail, we rode on
fivehours to Idana, a large village of Arab Mussulmen.
Near the latter place, were some extensive quarries, and excavations
with sepulchral grots. We saw, also, the remains of a church,
consisting of a dome, supported on four columns. To the right of the
road, as we passed along, our attention was directed to a solitary
mountain, supposed to be that whereon St. Simeon Stylites passed his
extraordinary existence. He caused a pillar to be erected here, on the
top of which he remained for forty years, preaching sometimes, from his
lofty position, to the neighboring peasants, and giving counsel and
admonition even to emperors. The base of his column, we were told, may
still be seen on the summit of this mountain. It is strange to reflect
on the well meant perversion of religion which reduced a sincere
believer in the Gospel to the level of a Hindoo Yougee. Simeon,
however, doubtless, deemed he was doing God and man service, at the
cost of his own comfort and ease. Acting upon such a persuasion,
perhaps, his austerities rebuke the selfishness of some of our
generation, who think themselves entitled to sneer at him, and who
would not suffer the ache of a little finger either for the sake of God
or their fellow man.

The sepulchral caves at Idana were arched recesses
in the rock,
about four feet high and three deep, containing each a stone
sarcophagus. In the village, we found the ruins of a Greek church, the
apse and dome, over the altar, remaining in a fair state of
preservation. Columns, architraves, bases, and capitals were mixed up
with reckless confusion,, in the exteriors of the village houses. The
ruins were resorted to by every one who wished to erect a new
habitation, and will probably soon disappear from their present site.
As we were examining these remains, many of the villagers pressed
around us, watching, with great curiosity, our researches, and the
notes which we wrote down from time to. time. When we had
ceased from our investigations, they asked if we were looking for gold,
and whether there were really any treasures buried below. They seemed
to consider our notes as forms of incantation, by which, we hoped to
subdue, or propitiate, the genii guardians of the hidden riches.

From Idana, we journeyed four hours to Sou Bashi, a
marshy place,
near a muddy rivulet. As we rode along, we perceived numerous ruins of
churches and monasteries covering the slopes and summits of the bills
and mountains on every side. We were now in the vicinity of Antioch;
which was celebrated in old tithes for the number of its monks, whose
lauras, or monastic villages, lay scattered about the surrounding
country.

Our journey from Sou Bashi to Jisr Hadeed, or the
stone bridge,
occupied four hours. This place takes its name from the bridge over the
Orontes, which we crossed here. The village itself is on the eastern
bank of the river, and contains some relies of antiquity, that have
frequently aided in the construction of its mud cabins.

From Jisr Hadeed, we rode on for two hours, and
spread out carpets,
for the night, on the rising acclivities to the south of the road. The
scene, at sunset, was magnificent. Before us were the dark mountains of
the Amanus range, skirting an undulating and well-cultivated plain,
through the midst of which flowed the Orontes, whose name recalled a
multitude of historical associations. Much of the enjoyment, however,
which I should otherwise have derived from this part of the journey was
impeded by a return of the fever and ague, that I deemed had been
perfectly cured at Aleppo.

From our last halting-place we pushed on to Antioeh,
pursuing our
route along the base of the hills, at the foot of which we had rested
the night before. At the distance of a mile from the town, we
encountered a number of gardens, which lay on each side of the road,
and seemed to be well tended by their owners. We entered Antioeh by the
gate of St. Paul, and were much struck by the mean appearance which it
presented. Most of the houses were covered with red tiles, and were
constructed without taste or elegance. Everything looked miserable and
wretched, while the beautiful scenery around seemed perfectly thrown
away on the modern Antioeh. The town appeared almost deserted, and its
streets were so still and silent that one might have imagined it to he
the resuscitated form of the ancient city, raised, like Pompeii, from a
sleep of centuries, and abandoned by all living beings except a few
travelers or sight-seers. Much of its present desolate aspect, however,
was occasioned by the terrific earthquake which took place here a fete
years ago, and obliged many of the surviving inhabitants to repair to
Aleppo.

We took up our quarters at the house of a man whose
father had been
the English agent; but our reception was anything but hospitable. He
complained that our government had not recognized him as 'their
representative, and, therefore, travelers of our nation had no right to
expect that be would afford them any assistance. The mutsellim,
however, took a very different view of the matter, and ordered him to
receive us, which, after a long delay, he did.

After dinner, we went abroad to discover if we could
search out any
ancient remains; but in this we were perfectly unsuccessful. Everything
around was modern, except the river and those glorious mountains which
had once looked proudly down upon the magnificent capital of the East.

We did not tarry long at Antioch, but continued our
journey over the
mountains, halting occasionally in the valleys, and pitching our tent
under the hospitable shades of the wide-spreading walnut trees, which
afforded a kindly shelter from the rays of a Syrian sun. The day after
our departure, we toiled for half an hour up a steep and stony mountain
path, which conducted us to the summit of a lofty eminence, whence we
beheld beneath the wide expanse of the beautiful Mediterranean, its
numberless waves lit up by a thousand smiles. The sight excited
powerfully our home feelings, and, to the great astonishment of our
escort, we rose in our stirrups and saluted the sea with three loud
cheers. Giorgio, who entered into our enthusiasm, remarked that it
reminded him of the joy with which some of his countrymen had hailed a
similar view in days of yore.

We continued our route, proceeding through avenues
of trees, varied
now and then by hedges of oleanders and bay myrtles, and crossing from
time to time some rivulet or mountain stream, from whose clear waters
we satisfied our horses' thirst and our own. At length we emerged from
a mountain forest, and entered a large plain covered with verdure, at
the extremity of which lay the town of Latakia, the ancient Laodicea,
where we were hospitably received by the English consular agent, a
Syrian Melekite.

We remained at Latakia two days, during which time
we were honored
by a visit from the Greek bishop and- his priests. The episcopal
dignitary was a fine-looking man, and was treated with the most marked
deference by his clergy, who, on entering the room where he sat,
prostrated themselves before him, and did not presume to join in the
conversation till he had given them permission.

From Latakia we hired an Arab boat to convey us to
Beyrout, in which
we embarked two days after our arrival, and sailed along the coast,
having on our left the mountains of the Anusarey, who, like their
neighbors the Druses, cultivate in their inaccessible retreats a
mysterious and unknown Worship. As we proceeded, we came in sight of
the Lebanon range, its lofty summits being covered with monasteries and
the castles of Druse and Maronite chieftains.

During the voyage, the sailors pointed out one of
the former
residences of the Emir Beschir, whom I had seen at Constantinople, a
captive exile from his fair Syrian land. The emir possessed some of the
qualities which have constituted in all ages a great man. He was brave,
politic, and unscrupulous; cared very little about the feelings or the
lives of those who opposed him, and deceived everybody who placed any
reliance on his promises. Alternately a Christian, a Mohammedan, and a
Druse, he seems to have been ready to assume any religion which enabled
him to exercise sovereign power over the mountaineers. But the emir
soon found himself in a dangerous and precarious position between Lord
Palmerston and Ibraheem Pasha. The siege of Acre followed; and the head
of the house of Shehaab was compelled to abandon his sceptre, and to
retire to an honorable banishment at Stamboul.117
The Holy Land was again delivered over to the tender mercies of the
Osmanli, and their hated sway quickly restored it to its former
desolate and unsafe state. During the government of Ibraheem Pasha, a
traveler could pass from Dan to Beersheba with a single attendant, or
even alone; now, however, he can hardly stir six miles without a strong
escort: These facts require no comment. But it may be as well to
mention that the natives very generally lay all these calamities at our
door. It seem% the invariable y of England to interfere in all the
quarrels of other nations, to bring out self-constituted allies into
greater trouble than they were in before, and to be abused by the
persons whom our rulers supposed they were assisting and loading with
benefits. Lord Palmerston and his measures are decidedly in bad odor
among the inhabitants of Palestine=as where are they not in foreign
parts?

We arrived safely at Beyrout, and found ourselves
once more the
tenants of an indifferent hotel; which, though not so comfortable,
gave, perhaps, more scope to the feeling of independence than the
Oriental hospitality we had for so long a time experienced. Prom hence
I repaired, after a short stay in these parts, to Malta; by way of
Smyrna, and thus terminated my wanderings in the East.

And now, kind, gentle, or courteous reader--for
under all these
names you have been addressed by those who wish you to read their
books--allow me to thank you for having accompanied me so far in the
pilgrimage, whose details you have just been perusing. You have
traversed with me some of the most interesting regions of the earth;
and I would fain indulge. the vanity of supposing that you
have not grown weary of my company. Old traveler as I am, I feel some
compunction at parting with you, since our present fire-side journey
has served to recall many scenes and many friends who are now far away.
In taking leave, therefore, let me conclude with the wish so prominent
in Eastern farewells--"Ma Salaam, may you depart with peace as your
constant companion!"

FOOTNOTES

And Travels In Mesopotamia, Assyria, And Syria That
reproach, I am
happy to say, has since been rolled away from the English name by the
munificence of the late lamented Dowager Queen Adelaide, who erected,
at her own cost, a spacious and magnificent church for the use of the
English residents at Valetta. Yet about forty years had elapsed, since
the period of the occupation of the island by the English, before this
act of royal piety put to shame the tardiness and want of public spirit
of the English residents at Valetta. I allude to transactions in 1842
and 1844. Towards the close of the latter year, the Italian exiles were
prohibited by the local government of Malta from writing in the
newspapers. Job xxxi. 26, 27. Turkish boats used on the Bosphorus,
which are lighter and more elegant than even the wherries of the
Thames. The Sultan Murad IV. was one of the most successful of the
princes of the Ottoman line. At an early age, he succeeded Mustapha I.,
his uncle, who had been deposed by the Janizaries in 1622. Having
concluded a peace with the Emperor Ferdinand II., he resolved to turn
his arms against Persia. He began the war by laying siege to Baghdad,
which was then garrisoned by Persian troops. He was at first obliged to
retire; but in 1637 he again took the field, stormed Baghdad, and
disgraced his reputation by the cruel massacre of the greater part of
the inhabitants. In 1639, he returned to Constantinople, and made peace
with Persia, which event he did not long survive, as a fit of prolonged
debauchery soon afterwards put an end to his life. My relation is taken
from the statements of Theodoret, lib. ii. cap. 30. Philostorgius, an
Arian historian, lib. iii. sec. 23, alludes to the siege of Nisibis and
repulse of Sapor in the following terms: "Sapor, King of the Persians,
marched an army against Nisibis, and having in form besieged it, was in
a strange and unexpected manner obliged to retreat shamefully. For
James, the bishop of the city, having instructed the inhabitants in
what was necessary to be done, by his trust in God defended the town in
a wonderful manner." Apud Joseph. Ant., lib. i. cap. 4. The appellation
of the mountains near Jezirah is written in Arabic
Judi. But the
waw,
is easily substituted for the re, and thus
Gurdi or Jurdi, might become with little visible alteration
Gudi or Judi. One well. known example occurs to me at the present
moment of this mutation of the , ain, and , gimel, of the
Semetic dialects. The name Gomorrah, is written in Hebrew with ,
ain, and should be pronounced 'Amorrah, the first a being sounded with
a slight guttural intonation. Yet the Septuagint gives it in Greek
characters thus,

1 That
reproach,
I am happy to say, has since been rolled away from the English name by
the munificence of the late lamented Dowager Queen Adelaide, who
erected, at her own cost, a spacious and magnificent church for the use
of the English residents at Valetta. Yet about forty years had elapsed,
since the period of the occupation of the island by the English, before
this act of royal piety put to shame the tardiness and want of public
spirit of the English residents at Valetta.

2 I
allude to transactions in
1842 and 1844. Towards the close of the latter year, the Italian exiles
were prohibited by the local government of Malta from writing in the
newspapers.

4
Turkish boats used on the
Bosphorus, which are lighter and more elegant than even the wherries of
the Thames.

5 The
Sultan Murad IV. was
one of the most successful of the princes of the Ottoman line. At an
early age, he succeeded Mustapha I., his uncle, who had been deposed by
the Janizaries in 1622. Having concluded a peace with the Emperor
Ferdinand II., he resolved to turn his arms against Persia. He began
the war by laying siege to Baghdad, which was then garrisoned by
Persian troops. He was at first obliged to retire; but in 1637 he again
took the field, stormed Baghdad, and disgraced his reputation by the
cruel massacre of the greater part of the inhabitants. In 1639, he
returned to Constantinople, and made peace with Persia, which event he
did not long survive, as a fit of prolonged debauchery soon afterwards
put an end to his life.

6 My
relation is taken from
the statements of Theodoret, lib. ii. cap. 30. Philostorgius, an Arian
historian, lib. iii. sec. 23, alludes to the siege of Nisibis and
repulse of Sapor in the following terms: "Sapor, King of the Persians,
marched an army against Nisibis, and having in form besieged it, was in
a strange and unexpected manner obliged to retreat shamefully. For
James, the bishop of the city, having instructed the inhabitants in
what was necessary to be done, by his trust in God defended the town in
a wonderful manner."

8 The
appellation of the
mountains near Jezirah is written in Arabic Judi. But the
waw, is easily substituted for the re, and thus
Gurdi or Jurdi, might become with little visible alteration
Gudi or Judi.

9 One
well. known example
occurs to me at the present moment of this mutation of the ,
ain, and , gimel, of the Semetic dialects. The name
Gomorrah, is written in Hebrew with , ain, and should be
pronounced 'Amorrah, the first a being sounded with a slight guttural
intonation. Yet the Septuagint gives it in Greek characters thus, ,
Gomorrba.

10
The name Jebel Judi is
only applied at present to the mountains of that range in the vicinity
of Jezirah; but, to avoid confusion, I have bestowed it, according to
the ancient usage, on the whole chain to the eastward of the plains of
Nineveh and Navkoor.

11
The word sheitan is used
in Arabic as an equivalent for a daring or mischievous person.
Sometimes the application is considered complimentary, and means
simply, he is a clever fellow.

15
Kas for Kasees means
literally presbyter, and is always prefixed to the names of priests by
the Chaldean and Syrian Christians.

16
The greatest obscurity
seems to envelop the final fate of Nineveh. After a brief, but
extensive dominion over Western Asia, its name disappears altogether
from the pages of history. Diodorus informs us that it was destroyed by
Arbaces the Mede, and Belesis, a Babylonian, supposed to be the same
with Nabopolasser.

20
It is doubtful whether
those termed by the Yezidees peers are to be considered a separate
grade. I have heard of their existence, but I never encountered any
person belonging to this order. Their name, and that of the lowest
grade, the Fakeers, is Persian.

21
This account of the
system of Manes has been adopted from Mosheim, Eccl. Hist. Cent. iii.,
and Beausobre, Histoire du Manicheisme.

32 At the back of every Oriental altar appears a raised ledge, on
which are placed the candles and cross. It is called the Thropos, or
throne, and seems to be the same designated in the above rubric as the
upper part.

33
The original of the above
Liturgy may be found in Renaudot's Collection of Eastern Liturgies.

34
Leontius Byzantinus apud
Assemani accuses the early Nestorians of teaching that the bread and
wine were merely types of the body and blood of Christ.

39
To eat stick is a
metaphorical expression for the bastinado. It is not, as may be
imagined, a very digestible species of food.

40
The Orientals use the
word "drink" in lieu of "smoke." It arises probably from the fact that
the first pipes invented were those termed narguilehs or hookahs, in
which the smoke, drawn through water, is inhaled by the smoker in a
manner which much resembles the act of drinking.

56 A
fabulous mountain,
which, according to Oriental geographers; surrounds the world.

57
Part of the above story
was related by my friend the priest at the time alluded to, but, as I
heard it afterwards in a more complete form, I have given the reader
the benefit o£ my after knowledge. My chief reason for inserting
it is to furnish a specimen of the narratives which, even at the
present day, are the delight of Orientals. This story recommended
itself to my notice by its freedom from the gross indelicacy which is
too commonly the characteristic of Eastern tales. Yet even in this some
alterations have been found necessary.

58
"Out of that land went
forth Asshur, and builded Nineveh and the city Rehoboth and Calah."

60
Strabo, lib. 16, mentions
the plain in the vicinity of Nineveh, and seems to consider it as not
belonging to the province of Adiabene. But his testimony, if taken,
would also exclude that city, and the land to the southward of it, from
the district of Calachene, as he enumerates that as a distinct part of
Assyria immediately afterwards. In the arrangement of the dioceses
recorded in Assemani, tom. iii., Athoor and Adiabene seem to be
continually connected, while Calachene is spoken of as nearer the
mountains.

65
Saenhara or Shinar is
placed next to the Ruten or Cappadocians among the conquests of Sethos
I. They are all described as Northern nations, an expression which
would hardly apply to a territory south of Mosul.

70
Quint. Curt., lib. 5. In
his description of Babylon, he mentions that a king of Syria
constructed the hanging gardens for the use of his wife. If for Syria
we read Assyria, two names often confounded, this assertion may support
the hypothesis advocated above.

71
"Asser adanpal" and
"Esarhaddon" are too much alike to need any attempt at identification.
The similarity of the names shows that the Greek Sardanapalus, whom all
profane historians agree was the last king of Assyria, and the
Esarhaddon of Scripture, are one and the same person. Shortly after the
accession of the latter is mentioned, we read of Merodach Baladan, King
of Babylon, the Belesis of profane history. The conjectures of Prideaux
and others, who have considered Tiglath Pileser to be the same person
as Arbaces the Mede, seem unnatural, and destitute of any solid
foundation.

80
The Oriental writers
mention two persons of the name of Thaddeus, to one of whom they give
the appellation of Adaeus, which is probably only a corruption of
Aghaeus. They seem to have confused the labors of St. Thaddeus with
those of his disciple. Vide Assem., tom. iii.

107
I have drawn the above
statements from the chronicle of the Bishop John. He seems to have been
somewhat credulous; but the main facts are corroborated by Theophanes
and Procopias.

108
For a concise view of
the different Christian sects of the East, the reader may consult with
profit a small pamphlet, entitled "The Eastern Churches," published by
Mr. Darling, of Queen Street.

109
The term Fermasoon,
which, I believe, is a corruption of "Freemason," is used in the East
to express a person void of religion. It is frequently applied to
Protestants, and to Englishmen, concerning whose theological tenets the
utmost ignorance prevails in the East.

117
It is but justice to
observe that the character I have here given of the Emir of Lebanon is
not founded on personal knowledge, but is that-generally
bestowed on him by Franks in the East. Having, however, some misgivings
respecting information collected from the latter source, I must remark
that my worthy friend, Madame Asmar, the authoress of the entertaining
and instructive "Memoirs of a Babylonian Princess," represents the Emir
Beschir as a man of great piety and as a well-meaning and persecuted
prince, who entertained the deepest penitence for measures to which he
had been led by motives of state policy. Madame Asmar's intimate
knowledge of the emir and his subjects claims for her statement some
attention, and more credit perhaps than the on dits of ignorant and
prejudiced travelers.